


Down South

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Series: The Hour Continued [5]
Category: The Hour (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Issues, Glasgow, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, POV Lix Storm, POV Randall Brown, Parent-Child Relationship, Past, Poverty, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 32,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: After the events of“Up North”and“Northern Interlude”Lix and Randall embark on the journey back to London.There is a strange thing about being on the road. While moving forward, your past is following you. What usually is buried deep down in your soul emerges while you are staring at the long road ahead. It creeps back into your mind and takes over your present. Especially if you touch places that once were familiar or run into people who once were close. You may have become older, but unresolved issues stay young. They might even have grown more powerful because you have given them too much time to develop into demons in your subconsciousness.On their way down South both Randall and Lix are encountering demons from their respective pasts. Will they be brave enough to face them? Strong enough to defeat them? And, maybe most important: Are they willing to bear with each other once the carefree days are over and what seemed to be a straight road ahead is indeed a small, unsteady, and erratic path?
Relationships: Randall Brown/Lix Storm
Series: The Hour Continued [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013298
Comments: 55
Kudos: 63





	1. Berriedale to Golspie {Randall}

Neither Randall nor Lix had said anything since they mounted the car and left Berriedale, heading South. They were each lost in their own thoughts.

One of the wonderful things about Lix was that there was never any pressure to talk. He never understood why people felt the need to talk all the time when there was nothing important to say. If Lix thought otherwise, she didn't say so. He, for his part, loved to enjoy the scenery in silence.

For some miles, they just crossed the hilly landscape. Forests interchanged with meadows, sometimes soft, sometimes steep, accompanied by patches of heathland. Caithness and Sutherland always seemed like a piece of delicate, well-woven cloth to him.

Then, the landscape opened up.

To the left, the sea became visible. To the right, hills and mountains towered. It was Randall's favorite part of the road and he enjoyed every minute of this contrast of sea and land, the small villages they crossed adding to it, making it complete, making it a well-rounded, beautiful, ideal symphony.

He would miss this.

He would miss the sea, and the hills, and the meadows. He would miss it more than Paddy, Peter, Lissy, Mrs. McCall, and Ian, as dear as they were to him. It was a part of himself he hated and would never be able to talk about:

_That he missed places more than people._

He knew that it made him a terrible human being. That he was standoffish and strange, and even Lix would never understand it.

Although Lix was different...

To him, _Lix_ was a _place_.

Of course, she was a woman. But she felt different to him than other people.

 _Home_.

Lix felt like _home_.

Berriedale felt more like his home than London.

London felt more like his home than Glasgow.

But, Lix... Lix felt more like his home than any of those places.

_Lix was his home._

“What are you smiling at?”

His home asked.

He hadn't realized he was smiling.

“Nothing,” he said, the smile still lingering on his lips.

He would have loved to take her hand and look into her wonderful blue eyes, but he didn't dare to take his hands from the wheel or take his eyes off the road as they crossed the center of Golspie now. There could be children running across the street, their minds set on the game they played instead of the scarce traffic.

“Take a last look at the open sea, Lix. It is the last time we see it that close, if at all, on our trip.”

“It is very beautiful, Randall!”

“Oh, yes, it is.”

He smiled as he dared to look at the beautiful woman beside him.


	2. Golspie to Struie Hill {Randall}

The landscape became a bit less scenic, a bit less distracting, and, at least for a few miles, a bit more suitable for agriculture.

As they passed Bonar Bridge he became a bit afraid of how Lix would react to what he would do in a short while.

What he had to do.

What he _needed_ to do, otherwise it wasn't right. 

Otherwise it wasn't  _exactly_ how it needed to be. 

Otherwise this whole trip would be an utter chaos and he would not feel comfortable for the remaining part of it.

He remembered how he had to drive over 20 miles back again because his whole body and mind felt  _wrong_ up to a point it hurt. He had thought he could do without it. But he had learned that he couldn't. The hard way. 

He grabbed the steering wheel a bit tighter.

Maybe she wouldn't notice it if he managed to do it _right_.

Once they were on top of the hill, he turned to the side of the road and parked the car.

“Come on, Lix, it's a beautiful view! The whole Donoch Firth at your feet!”

He got out of the car and Lix followed.

When Randall was sure Lix had immersed herself in the view, he stepped a few feet aside.

He let his eyes travel over the Firth and to the hills, knowing that somewhere behind them, only a few hills and valleys away, was his cottage, and his cliffs, and his hills, and Berriedale with all those dear people in it. He raised his hand and waved.

“Goodbye, my love!”

He whispered, softly, hoping Lix wouldn't hear it.

“Who are you saying goodbye to? Lissy?”

Randall startled. Of course, Lix had heard him say it. He turned to see her standing beside him, her arms crossed. That she had caught him had startled him, but what outright frightened him was her sharp tone and the glowing in her eyes.

He instantly felt more uncomfortable and started fidgeting.

“No, not Lissy, Lix...”

He started rubbing his forehead, took down his glasses, started searching for a handkerchief to clean them, found none, wanted to put the glasses back on again but couldn't do it because there were specks on the glasses and he first had to wipe them clean before they could go up on his nose again.

“If it isn't Lissy, why do you start fidgeting? You are nervous, Randall! Why are you nervous if you didn't mean Lissy? Don't lie to me, Randall Brown!”

The annoyed and slightly angry tone in her voice made things worse. He frantically started to search for any piece of cloth to clean his glasses. Finding none, he started to pull out his shirt. But his shirt would not be good for cleaning his glasses. The fabric was too stiff. And that part of his shirt had been in his trousers, so it was probably dirty in some way.

He looked at his glasses, and noticed they were shaking.

Why were they shaking?

Probably because his hands were shaking.

He looked up.

Lix was angry with him.

Because he was an idiot.

Because he was a terrible human being.

He was too ashamed to stand her gaze.

He looked down to his glasses again.

His hands now shook so much he couldn't tell if his glasses were dirty.

But he  _knew_ his glasses were dirty.

He had to clean them.

But he couldn't.

He was unable to do anything anymore.

Other than his shaking hands the rest of his body was paralyzed.

“Randall?”

Lix now sounded more confused than angry.

“Randall, what's the matter?”

“Lix.”

He mumbled. He wanted to explain it to her although she wouldn't be able to understand. But he needed to have the words in the right sequence first. And his brain refused to do that. It refused to help him explain to Lix that he just had said goodbye to Berriedale. That he  _needed_ to do that because otherwise it wasn't  _right_ . Otherwise everything was  _wrong_ .

“Randall?”

“I can't. Please. I can't.”

And he couldn't.

He couldn't move.

And he couldn't speak.

And he couldn't do anything to get out of this miserable situation.

He failed.

He failed again.

And he was just about to lose the most important person in his life if he didn't manage to piece himself together again and explain it to her.

But all his broken mind could manage were those ridiculous words.

“Please!”

And

“I can't.”


	3. Struie Hill {Lix}

“Goodbye, my love!”

Lix heard him say and when she turned around she saw him waving goodbye and looking in the distance.

She couldn't believe it. “My love” was a term he had only started to use recently for her. He had never used a pet name before. She had thought that it was something special, something unique. Something just meant for _her_.

When he said it now, staring over the hills, she felt her heart, or the small remnants of it in the deep dark pit in her chest, being crushed again. Maybe Randall had hoped she wouldn't realize it, but she did. He said goodbye to his love. To his love he left in Berriedale.

Lissy.

It couldn't be anyone else, right?

She had sensed it when she had seen how they held each other.

Randall loved Lissy.

He _still_ loved her.

She felt anger welling up.

He betrayed her!

He _hadn't_ been completely honest with her.

The relationship with Lissy was more than a friendship. It was _love!_ He loved Lissy, and, not being able to say it to her in person because he knew she was watching, he said it up here on the hill, where he probably hoped she was distracted by the scenic view and the wind would blow his words away before she could hear them.

But Lix Storm was no fool. She had fought her way through this world long enough to see and to understand what was happening here.

And she fought difficulties head on. She was up for no nonsense and she for sure wouldn't let a secret affair going on behind her back.

“Who are you saying goodbye to? Lissy?”

She asked him straight away, folding her arms.

“No, not Lissy, Lix...”

Randall reacted how he always reacted when she caught him lying: he started fidgeting and do all kinds of stupid nonsense with his glasses and his hands. Sometimes, it was really hard to bear with all those quirks of him. She wouldn't let him slip this time!

“If it isn't Lissy, why do you start fidgeting? You are nervous, Randall! Why are you nervous if you didn't mean Lissy? Don't lie to me, Randall Brown!”

Now Randall started pulling his shirt from his trousers. That man was really unbearable, sometimes. Why didn't he just face her and tell her straight away that he had still feelings for Lissy, or maybe was confused and not sure if it was a good idea to marry her?

Nothing two adults couldn't talk about. Things happened. Better talking about it and maybe giving each other some breathing space to think things over than _lying_.

And now his hands started shaking.

He looked at her. A short, guilty glance, before he looked down at his shaking hands with the glasses again.

Oh, for heaven's sake, could he not just _say_ _something_ instead of acting like a child that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar?

“Randall?”

Maybe it was _more_ than she had expected. Maybe the revelation was so terrible that he was really frightened to tell her. Maybe he didn't love her at all? Maybe he had just realized that he loved Lissy all along and now he didn't know how he should tell her?

“Randall, what's the matter?”

“Lix.”

It was just a mumble.

Now that she looked close, he seemed paralyzed. It seemed as if only his hands moved and the rest of his body was stiff as a poker.

“Randall?”

Maybe it wasn't that he felt guilty? Maybe it was a physical condition. What could cause a body shaking and being paralyzed?

“I can't. Please. I can't.”

A stroke, perhaps?

She felt panic rising, her heart leaped to her throat.

“Please!”

Randall repeated, hands shaking.

“I can't.”

“What's the matter, Randall, talk to me.”

He was not looking up to her. He just repeated those words. Over and over again.

“Please!”

Not loud, but also not a whisper. A quiet, desperate murmuring.

“I can't.”


	4. Struie Hill {Randall}

“What's the matter, Randall, talk to me.”

He heard Lix's voice through the chaos in his head.

Concerned.

She was concerned.

She _worried_.

 _He_ worried _her_.

“Please! I can't.”

He wished he could say anything else. Yet, his mind seemed to have stuck with these three words.

He felt Lix's soft hands carefully removing the glasses from his hands. She set them down on the stone wall beside the road. Then he felt her hands on his hands which now shook without anything in them.

Fingertips touched his fingertips.

 _Lix's_ fingertips touched his fingertips.

 _Lix's_ hands grabbed his hands and kneaded them.

That was nice.

Nice hands.

Nice feeling.

Perhaps he could manage to look up?

He carefully did move his head and his eyes met Lix's eyes.

Concerned.

Worried.

Probably still angry with him, but not at this moment.

At this moment just worried.

She shouldn't worry.

And she should understand that he hadn't said goodbye to Lissy.

“I needed it.”

He saw the anger and the jealousy creeping back into Lix's eyes.

Oh, how he wished his brain would help him word it in a way she wouldn't become angry again.

“Not Lissy.”

He could just hope that Lix would be able to piece together what he meant.

He saw that Lix was still drawing the wrong conclusions.

He summoned all his willpower. He fought whatever it was that made his brain unable to speak.

“Berriedale.”

Was all he could add before he lost his ability to speak again.

He saw the confused frown on Lix's face. Then it suddenly changed into something that was both: utter disbelief and relief.

“Berriedale? You said goodbye to Berriedale?”

He nodded and the relief that she understood what he tried to tell her released some of the tension from his body.

Unfortunately, it started doing that at his knees. He nearly was unable to support his body anymore and stumbled towards the stone wall.

Lix caught his arm and guided him in a way he didn't came to rest on his glasses.

She sat beside him.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“You look miserable. For a moment I thought you had a stroke, Randall!”

“Sorry.”

He didn't want to worry her. Yet, his brain was still not really willing to help him speak. He couldn't explain it to her. He didn't understand it himself. He hated his brain. He hated himself.

He looked to his hands and saw that Lix's hands had cupped them protectively.

“Why didn't you _tell_ me that you wanted to say goodbye to Berriedale?”

“I couldn't.”

It was still difficult to find the right words. He just felt Lix hands on his. A soft, kneading sensation.

Good.

Warm.

Safe.

“No, I mean, right from the start. Why didn't you just tell me you wanted to take a break here not only to enjoy the view over the Donoch Firth but also to wave goodbye to Berriedale?”

Of course, she was right. He could have told her. Why didn't he?

“Felt stupid.”

That summed it up. He still did for doing it. For _needing_ to do it.

“I _need_ to do it, because... I... I... I just _need_ to. I know it is stupid.”

He hoped she would understand.

Lix stopped to knead his hands and instead wrapped her arm around his and intertwined their fingers.

“Hey. You don't need to feel stupid. You could have spared me a lot of worry if you just had told me. I would have understood.”

“Really?”

He said, raising his eyebrows, staring at her in disbelief.

“Of course I do. Berriedale is your home. Well, not where you were born, but what you chose to be your home, just like you chose a family other than your own. It is a place you love and there are people you love. You wanted to say goodbye to your home. There's nothing wrong with that, silly!”

He looked into her wonderful blue eyes, he recognized the small wrinkles on her forehead that he adored, he let his gaze glide along her distinctive jawline and to the small dimple on her chin.

Then, he shook his head.

“No, Lix, no.”

Suddenly, he felt secure again.

His brain was working again.

And every muscle in his body, every bowstring, every nerve cord, every blood vessel, every synapse, was again doing what it had to do. _Exactly_ what it had to do.

He knew it.

He knew it for certain.

He was as certain as he always had been since he first met her.

“No, Lix, Lix, _my_ Lix. I was saying goodbye to a place I love. I only have _one_ home, Lix Storm. And that's you. _You_ are my home.”

He released his hand from hers and gently took her chin, because all the other things he wanted to tell her he could not put into _words_. But he could put them in a _kiss_.


	5. Struie Hill – Dalnavie {Lix}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I case you wonder: Randall drives an [Austin A40 Cambridge](https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Austin_A40#Austin_A40_Cambridge_\(1954%E2%80%931957\)).

The kiss came just as unexpected as the sudden waving goodbye to Berriedale and the revelation that Randall saw her as _his home_. 

Sure, Randall had a way to word things poetical. Not in his professional role as a journalist, but when it came to emotions. At least, when it came to  _her._ She didn't know where this came from. Thinking about it, she didn't know much about Randall. Sure, she knew his professional career, his political views, and some topics he was passionate about. And he had been open about his past relationships, much more than she had been with hers. But apart from the tragic events that shaped his childhood she didn't know much about how Randall grew up, about where he came from, about his  _real_ home.

She got sidetracked because the kiss got intense. She always felt that Randall communicated quite effectively with his kisses. He might have been lost for words, but made up for it by telling her how much he loved her, he  _needed_ her, with this kiss, removing every doubt she had about the true nature of his feelings from her brain. 

She leaned into it.

Only for a moment.

Feeling his love for her.

Then, her logical mind kicked in and analyzed that they sat on a cold stone wall next to a road which wasn't busy, but still, a public place. It was not like Randall to kiss like that in public. Usually, he would feel extremely uncomfortable with it. That he did so told her how much the small incident must have distraught him.

She gently put her hand on his shoulder before she withdrew a bit.

“Hey, I know we don't need to be back in London before Wednesday morning, but still, don't you think we should cover a little more distance today so we don't need to hurry on our trip?”

Randall blushed and nodded.

“You know, if you want, I can drive for a bit.”

Lix offered without thinking twice, seeing that there was still a disturbed flickering in his eyes when she handed him his glasses. He put them on with a surprised look.

“Are you able to drive a car?”

“Randall, I'm a foreign affairs correspondent. I have learned how to drive a car before I went to Spain. I learned how to drive a truck and a tank during the war. And I had several invitations from pilots to show me how to fly a plane!”

She couldn't suppress a grin, because Randall didn't look surprised, he looked flabbergasted.

“Women are well able to drive cars, you know? It is not like it is a special ability of the male brain.”

Randall blushed again and started fidgeting. He put his glasses down again.

“I didn't mean to imply...” he told his glasses.

No, he didn't.

She knew that much.

He might have been surprised that she was able to drive a car because he had never seen her doing it, but he didn't think women shouldn't drive. It was something else. If he let her take the wheel he admitted that he was weak. That he was disturbed and should better not drive himself before he had regained his composure. But that was too much of a sensitive topic to bring up now.

Well, there was something else that made him uncomfortable and was perhaps a bit easier to talk about.

“I know, Randall,” she sighed, “don't worry, I know. But you are a bit afraid to have your precious car in the hands of someone else.”

“No, no,...”

Randall checked the temple arms of his glasses critically.

“Yes, perhaps.”

He finally admitted.

Lix put her hand on his knee.

“Hey, I tell you something: I just drive down that hill. If you feel uncomfortable, we change seats again, okay?”

Randall stared at her hand, to his glasses, back to her hand, took one last critical look at his glasses, then, put them on his nose with one resolute movement. He finally looked into her eyes again.

“Alright!”

He nodded and stood up. He walked towards the car, determined, but his head slightly bent, like a man who had been defeated.

Lix followed him.

They both came to a halt on the right side of the car.

For a moment Randall stared at her, confused. Then he very slowly took the key out of his right trouser pocket. For a moment he stared at it, before he handed it to her and went to the opposite side of the car.

Lix sat behind the wheel, adjusted the mirror, and made herself familiar with the controls. It was a rather new Austin and had a couple of conveniences compared to the cars she was familiar with.

Randall sat stiff as a poker with exactly the same distance to her and to the door to the left.

“If you prefer that I drive...”

He started after he had straightened out his trousers a couple of times.

“It is a great car, Randall, don't worry. It is much more convenient than most of the old bangers I know. This will be fun!”

Randall eyed her with a shocked expression in his eyes.

“Don't worry, I will take good care of your precious vehicle, I know how dear it is to you. I mean, you keep it on the BBC parking lot so it doesn't get hurt on the streets of London, right? Don't you worry, I will treat her like the lady she is!”

Lix said, suppressing both, the amused smile and the childish urge to shout “yay!”, as she turned into the road to Dalnavie.


	6. Dalnavie – Dingwall {Randall}

She loved driving.

His Lix loved driving.

Randall had recognized it the very moment she turned into the road and drove down the barren hills, down to Dalnavie, much faster than he would have done, but no less focused and safe.

There was a glowing in her eyes, a fascination, an excitement he recognized from all the times when she was on a chase, when her fine journalistic senses caught wind of a great story and she was up and about to hunt it down. It seems it was the same when she got behind the wheel.

When they reached the few houses of Dalnavie and she had looked at him questioningly he had just nodded his agreement to her keep driving.

Why should he even argue?

He never had shared that excitement for operating a vehicle his father had. He had bought the car, but he kept it at the BBC parking lot for other reasons than she assumed. Perhaps he should tell her. He knew it wasn't exactly polite that he said nothing at all, although it was the state he usually felt most comfortable with. Now, being just the passenger, he couldn't use the need to focus on the road as an excuse for saying nothing. Not that he ever needed an excuse for being silent when he was around Lix. But perhaps, she liked to have some conversation.

“It is not why I keep it in the parking lot.”

He started.

“Sorry, what?”

Lix sounded confused. Right, she hadn't followed his train of thoughts.

“It is not I'm afraid that the car gets damaged in the streets of London, you know? The reason why I keep the car in the parking lot of the BBC. I'm not obsessed with possessing a shiny car. Not like my father was.”

“Your father was obsessed with cars?”

Lix sounded interested in something else than what he wanted to tell her. Well, if she wanted to know...

“Well, not really obsessed... fascinated by them, rather. We couldn't afford one. Or, we could have afforded one, but he saved the money for... ah, well... doesn't matter.”

His father had saved the money to fund a good education for him. Only, that he wanted his son to become something 'respectable'. He sure didn't want to touch that topic. He fell silent again.

Lix didn't ask further and he was thankful for it.

There was a new thought that tried to fight its way from his subconsciousness to his consciousness.

An urge.

A need.

Closure.

Maybe it were the remnants of his catholic upbringing. He had discarded that faith like a worn-out coat long ago, but that didn't seem to make this urge go away. It was deeply ingrained. A wish for forgiveness. To make peace. He wasn't even sure what it was he wanted to make peace with. With his family? With some higher power? The universe? Just with himself?

Would Lix come with him or should he just say nothing and perhaps do it sometime later? Without her?

He looked over to the woman behind the wheel. Calm, confident, determined, focused on the road ahead,... and beautiful.

He didn't want to go anywhere without her anymore. He wanted to feel her next to him and... he hated to admit it to himself... he wanted to search for her hand when things got difficult. Because when he felt her hand in his, it made him feel stronger than he really was.

A decision.

He knew that the decision lay ahead.

Coming closer.

Somehow, he still wasn't convinced enough he really wanted to do it... do it _now_.

But... there was another option.

He... _could leave it up to Lix._

“That's Dingwall ahead, Lix, we should decide if we want to make it to London via Inverness - Edinburgh or Fort William – Glasgow.”


	7. Dingwall – Fort Augustus {Lix}

Lix loved driving. It didn't matter if it were two wheels, four wheels, or more wheels, as soon as she felt the movement of a vehicle, saw the road disappearing beneath her, and felt in control of the process of going forward, she felt a happiness and freedom, an absence of worry she seldom had otherwise.

It was nearly distracting that Randall tried to do some small talk. Not that he was good at it. She valued that he did it just to please her. He really tried his best to be a good passenger, as strange and uncomfortable as it was for him. He still sat rather stiff on his seat, seemingly unable to relax.

She was just about to tell him that it was okay, that he didn't need to say something to keep her entertained because she was entertained enough with the landscape passing left and right, when he suddenly said:

“That's Dingwall ahead, Lix, we should decide if we want to make it to London via Inverness - Edinburgh or Fort William – Glasgow.”

Lix tried to recall the map of Scotland she had studied recently in Freddie's office when she had tried to find out where Randall had fled to and how he got there.

“Fort William is probably longer, if memory serves. Although we will pass Loch Ness, so we might get a chance to spot Nessie and have a world exclusive for _The Hour_ ,” she chuckled.

While saying that, another thought crossed her mind.

_Glasgow._

Randall came from Glasgow.

Maybe she got the chance to see where he grew up.

Ask him about it?

She side-eyed Randall.

Maybe better not bringing up that topic, just suggesting the route to Glasgow and roll with whatever happened.

“I like the idea of driving along the Lochs, actually. I think we will have some scenic views that way. If you agree, I'd say Fort William – Glasgow, Randall.”

Randall exhaled. He seemed both: relieved and tense.

“Glasgow is it, then,” he mumbled, opening the glove compartment in front of him, “you called it, Lix!”

Randall took the map from the compartment, unfolded it, searched it, then folded it meticulously in a way he had just the small fraction he needed to navigate the next few miles sitting on his knees.

“Behind Beauly, there should be a crossing. Don't follow the road to Inverness, turn right, don't know if there is a sign to Drumnadrochit, but if we catch it, we should be on the right path.”

Lix nodded.

Randall turned out to be an excellent navigator. He always told her what to expect, as far as he could tell from what he saw on the map. In no time, they had made it across the hills to Drumnadrochit, crossed it, and finally saw Loch Ness stretched out near the ruins of Urquart Castle.

“Well, well, let's see if we can spot a monster,” Lix grinned and turned right, taking the road that would lead them to Fort William, eventually.

“If I should take a guess, I'd say not here.” Randall replied.

“Ah, so you know where to look for Nessie?”

Lix said, before she realized that it had been one of those sentences typical for Randall:

A sentence that said _more_. A sentence that bore _meaning._

“Not Nessie, no.”

Randall shook his head and seemed to disappear. At least that's how it felt to her. She hadn't replied to his initial statement in a way that he expected or meant it, so he just went back into his own thoughts, not letting her further in. She made a second attempt.

“Hey, what did you mean by that?”

Randall shrugged.

“Monsters, Lix. Monsters, demons, ghosts. In the end, they are just representations of our own worst fears and expectations. It is easier to face them if we imagine them as a menace from the outside, not something that is luring within us, in our own minds, in our own thoughts, in our own lives.”

“What monsters, Randall? What are you referring to?”

“Oh, never mind, Lix. Just a thought that crossed my mind. Nothing important, really. Just keep watching the road, there might be tourists around in search for Nessie and you never know if they are so immersed in their quest that they jump in front of the car.”

She had lost Randall to his own thoughts. The whole way until they reached Fort Augustus, being no longer required as a navigator because the road followed the Loch, he stayed a dark, tense, quiet, brooding, black hole that seemed unaware of its surroundings.


	8. Fort Augustus – Fort William {Randall}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall gets sick during this chapter, so you might brace yourself if you are sensitive to that.

The monsters, the demons, the ghosts – they were many, they were manifold and some were, indeed, within him. Others were all too real, out there, alive. And they waited for him in Glasgow. He had regretted his decision the very moment Lix had turned into the road along Loch Ness.

There were memories here.

There were memories all the way to Fort William and down to Glasgow.

Memories of family trips.

Memories of his family from happier times.

Were they really happier times?

Something dark and menacing always sat with him in the car.

The car his father had borrowed from a friend.

 _The_ car.

As much his father's pride and joy as it was his friend's.

It was a vacation from their flat, a short getaway from being his mother's guardian.

They were together, and sometimes, very, very rarely, his mother laughed.

And his father laughed.

Even put his hand on his shoulder.

Ruffled his hair.

Telling stories of the proud warriors of the Highlands who beat the English.

And about the monster in the Loch.

And about the fair, young maiden who drowned and was sometimes seen around Urquart Castle.

He forced himself out of his own memories when he saw Fort Augustus approaching, reminding him that he had a job to do as the navigator on board of this vehicle.

And that he had his own fair, young maiden to care for.

She would insist she was neither fair nor young, but to him, she was.

He put his hand on the nape of her neck and caressed it.

“Do you want to take a break, my love? Have a cup of tea or something?”

She gave him a short glance and a smile before focusing on the road again.

“How long until Fort William, Randall?”

He eyed the map and did a rough estimate.

“About 30 miles... an hour I think. Maybe a bit less.”

Lix nodded.

“I'd suggest we will take a break there.”

His Lix. Not tired so easily.

“Lix, Lix, _my_ Lix, tough as nails.”

His remark was rewarded with a small smirk. He had hoped to take a break, to get some distraction from his memories but he would do whatever suited Lix best.

“Behind that hotel coming up, turn right and we are right on track to Fort William.”

Unfortunately, the Highlands provided a scenic view, but not many chances to take the wrong road. Until Spean Bridge, worse, until Fort William, his duties as navigator were not really needed.

As soon as they passed the Bridge of Oich, the memories had a hold on him again.

His father telling him about the Battle of the Shirts, the Sacking of Invergarry Castle, and about the Well of the Seven Heads.

His father, adding as many gory details as possible, knowing fully well that his son was getting sick from it.

His father, taking delight seeing how unwell he got.

Him, begging his father to stop the car.

His mother begging his father to stop the car or at least to stop telling those stories.

His father just laughing, saying that a soldier had to become resistant to blood and gore, otherwise he would never be able to join the army or do a respectable job. That his mom mollycoddled him and that he was just doing his best to make a real man of his son.

His father, starting again about the seven severed heads.

Him, throwing up.

He felt the same sickness again.

He had to remind himself that this wasn't reality.

That it was over forty years later.

That he wasn't with his parents.

That he was with Lix.

He rolled down the window to get some fresh air, hoping that the cold would drive the sickness away and anchor him in reality.

He took a deep breath.

“Everything okay? You look a bit pale.”

“Yes, don't worry. I think I have accidentally looked into the map too long while we were in that long curve around Invergarry Castle. My inner ear acting up is not unheard of on these occasions.”

He hated that he had worried Lix. He scolded himself for being sentimental and letting ghosts from the past haunt him.

“We can take a break if you like, you know? I think Tobar nan Ceann, the Well of the Seven Heads, is ahead, maybe we just walk a few steps until it gets better?“

The sickness grabbed his stomach again and he needed a few deep breaths before he was sure that he didn't need to throw up like his seven-year-old self.

“No!“ He had intended it to sound calm, but seeing the landmark approaching, Lix already slowing down for a halt had him outright terrified, so it became more of a panicked shout.

Lix slowed the car down even more and flashed him a deeply worried glance. He couldn't help it. He grabbed her arm.

“Ahead, Lix, don't ask questions, just drive ahead as fast as you dare to drive to get us out of this godforsaken valley and away from this place.“

For once, he was glad that Lix had been a war correspondent. She didn't ask questions. She immediately stepped on the accelerator and sped up the car as if the devil were chasing them.

Only when the narrow valley opened a bit up to the right, he let go of Lix's arm. And it wasn't before he saw the familiar crossing at Spean Bridge approaching that he sighed relieved.

“Slow down, Lix. Turn right at the crossing.“

“For heaven's sake, Randall, what were we fleeing from?“

Lix's gave him a long, worried stare before she turned her head to the road again.

“Sorry about that. Fort William is approaching, we should be there in some minutes. Let's look for some nice tea room. I think I need to use the facilities.“

“Randall, don't tell me that you make me drive like the devil is close on our heels just because you need to wee! We could have stopped and you could have used a tree like every other man in this country!“

“No. It's... Please just... drive ahead.“

“Randall! What were we fleeing from?“

“Ghosts.“ He sighed and rubbed his face. “In a way... ghosts.“

He had no idea how else he should explain it to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in the history of Tobar nan Ceann, the Well of the Seven Heads, read here: <https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/well-of-the-seven-heads>


	9. Fort William {Randall}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall is still sick in this chapter, in case you are sensitive to that topic.

He tried to distract himself from his own mind like he always did when it tried to drive him mad: He imagined Lix's beautiful naked body, how it looked, how it felt...

But the memories were stronger.

The image immediately turned into the body of his dead mother.

What had carried him through all the rough times, what consoled him even when he was buried beneath the remnants of a shelter, not knowing if someone would come and pull him out, hearing nothing but gunfire and shells... Up here, in the Highlands, trapped between the hills of his own memories, the image that kept him hoping, that kept him sane, that kept him alive, it wasn't strong enough.

He was relieved when he saw Ben Nevis to the left.

Not long now until Fort William.

They passed Ben Nevis Distillery.

As a child, this had been a landmark that made him sad, because it indicated that, indeed, their vacation was over. A short stop in Fort William and about four hours later they would be back at home. Back in their prison. Resuming their roles. His mother as the inmate, him and his father as the prison wardens. Supervised by his aunt.

Today, however, he welcomed the sight of the unremarkable building to the left side of the road.

Not much later, Lix had found a nice little tea room for them to get a piece of cake and some hot tea. He immediately excused himself to the bathroom.

He knew it.

He knew the memories wouldn't let him calm down.

Not if he didn't do this.

He loosened his tie, took it off, and folded it neatly before he stored it away in his coat pocket.

If the sickness got to him, he would at least not need to worry about it.

He opened the first button of his shirt.

Then he leaned his forehead against the cold tiles.

And let the memories flood back in.

His father.

The story of the seven heads.

Getting sick again.

The retching.

Again and again.

It stayed down.

In this reality, it stayed down.

Here, in this small cabinet, a fifty-year-old managed to keep it together.

In his memories, however, a seven-year-old didn't.

The boy threw up.

In the car.

The precious car.

He felt his father grabbing him.

Dragging him by the collar out of the car.

Shouting at him.

Slapping him.

Slapping him again.

And again.

His mom.

His mom taking his father's arm, keeping him from the next slap.

His mom talking to his father, calm and determined.

His mom cleaning his face.

His mom hugging him.

His mom telling him that it was okay.

That he didn't need to become a soldier. That humanity would learn. That there had to be one final war to end all wars and after that, they would sort their differences. That she was sure that this war would soon come to an end, and that he was too young to fight in it.

And that he didn't need to become untouched by cruelty to become a man. That it was okay to be abhorred by violence up to a point where it made him sick. That the new world would be built upon people like him, compassionate souls who would do everything to stop the violence, and the craving for revenge. Men who worked on building a better tomorrow for their children.

The warmth of the hug went away and was replaced by the feeling of the cold tiles against his forehead.

But it was okay.

It was okay.

Slowly the adult Randall let go of the younger Randall.

He went to the sink.

He let some cold water on his face anchor him in reality and remove the traces of the pain he went through.

He took his tie and put it back on.

He rectified the knot several times until he was sure it was absolutely symmetrical.

Then he took one final look at the man in the mirror.

A miserable human being.

But strong enough not to worry his Lix any longer.


	10. Fort William {Lix}

It was not often that Randall scared her. She had seen him at his weakest and at his strongest. But no matter what happened, hunched in a cellar with shells hitting near, in the midst of the turmoil after they found Freddie, or devastated upon finding out their daughter was dead... even in complete, emotional breakdown... there was something about Randall that stayed... predictable and rational.

Having him talking about monsters, demons, and ghosts, the panic in his voice when she wanted to stop at the Well of the Seven Heads, him disappearing in the bathroom now for much longer than he usually stayed... this was not the Randall Brown she knew.

She saw him coming back from the bathroom.

Still white as a sheet.

If her eyes didn't betray her, his eyes were slightly reddened. Had he been crying?

He sat down quietly, eating his cake.

Lix had already finished hers and watched him eat. Slowly, accurately, systematically, more a machine than a human being.

She hoped he would say something. Anything.

Randall remained silent.

Even after he finished the cake, he kept staring to the plate.

Usually, she could read him, but somehow... it was like the bond that usually allowed them to communicate without saying much... it was broken.

It scared her.

She had to do something about it.

“Randall...”

She reached out and touched his hand. He startled and withdrew it. But at least, he looked up. Fear. It was _fear_ she saw in his eyes. He was _scared_ out of his mind.

“Randall, don't you think it is time to _talk_ to me? Look, I can see you are not okay, but if you don't tell me what is wrong there is nothing I can _do_ about it. So, won't you finally tell me what it is? What are those ghosts that haunt you? What scares you? What makes you want to run away? It is nearly as if... you aren't with me anymore since... when I think about it... since Drumnadrochit.”

Randall stared at her for a long moment without saying anything.

It nearly made her mad. She wanted to grab him by his lapels, shake him, and shout at him to finally open his mouth and tell her what he was brooding about. However, there was a silent plea in his eyes, a plea to bear with him.

“Memories.”

He suddenly said. Only that word, without context.

“Memories? What memories?”

“This... trip... is... filled with... memories.”

He took a deep breath, folding the napkin, arranging the fork on it several times, straightening out the table cloth, back to aligning the fork again. She tried not to be annoyed by it. He wanted to talk, but he needed to have a few things _just so_ before he could do so. She forced herself to remain patient.

“Lix...”

He put his hand on the table again, palm facing up. She took it and he squeezed it.

“Lix... when you choose the Glasgow route... I knew what would come. I feared it, but I knew I needed to do it at some point...”

He fell silent again.

“Do what, Randall?”

“Face my demons, Lix. Face the painful memories that are all around here. I knew it would be hard, but I have underestimated _how_ hard it would be... and how _early_ it would be. I thought Glasgow would be it. And I figured we could still avoid Glasgow, take a slightly different route if it turned out... that... I... I wasn't strong enough.”

Randall exhaled, released his hand from hers and started to unfold and fold the napkin again.

“See, the thing is...” this time he spoke to the napkin, “it is all around here. It haunts me. Up there in the valley, along the Lochs... at the well... _especially_ at the well... They are everywhere! They are everywhere. Everywhere.”

“Your memories?”

Randall nodded.

It was hard to see him struggle like this but she had no idea how to help him.

“How about... I don't know. How about if we take a hotel room here. Relax. And then take an alternative route to London. Avoiding Glasgow?”

Randall shook his head, looking miserable. He took down his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“You don't understand, Lix.” He said quietly, staring at his glasses, putting them on the table, touching the temple arms three times. “This is _Fort William_.”

He made it sound as if that explained everything.

“Yes, it is. I know, Randall. What's wrong with that?”

“Lix, it is Fort William, the middle of... _everything!_ Even if we make it Stirling, not Glasgow, we still need to cross this area. It is full of memories. Weekend trips. Stories. This is the devil's pit of memories. I'm trapped, Lix. Imprisoned. I'm a prisoner of my own memories, and I can't get out... And I'm not strong enough. Even so far away from Glasgow, I'm already not strong enough.”

The last words were just mumbled.

“Hey.”

Lix offered him her hand again. He took it.

“I have no idea what would help you. But... I'm here, okay? I think it is already very brave that you decided to do that... face your demons, like you call it.”

For a moment, they just left it at that. He just held her hand and stared to his empty plate while she caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. Then he looked up again.

“Would you let me drive?”

It caught her off guard. So, she had overestimated Randall. He was just like every other man in her life. Like every other man, his male ego was not able to deal with a woman doing what was a man's job. It was threatening his masculinity that she drove the car!

She let go of his hand and crossed her arms.

“Sure,” she shrugged, “it is your car after all.”

He looked from his now empty hand to her, back to the hand, then took his glasses, inspected them, put them on, took them off, inspected them again, set them down to the table, tapped the temple arms three times and finally squeezed each temple arm between thumb and index finger, closing his eyes as if in pain.

“I... don't think you understand, Lix.”

“What? That you prefer to drive the car yourself? I think it is pretty stupid if the road we took already brings back painful memories, but if you mind my driving style and can't cope with a woman behind the wheel... as I said, it is still your car, you do you, Randall.”

It came out a bit more snappish than intended, but she was disappointed in him and she had a right to let him know that.

Randall's head sank even lower, now focusing completely on his glasses, his fingers pinching the temple arms in a way Lix was afraid that either the temple arms or his fingers would snap.

“I hope... it... is different.”

Randall managed between his teeth. She hadn't realized that he was gritting them. It made her realize that there must be more to the issue than she had anticipated.

“What? What is different?”

His eyes tightly shut, his whole body tense, his head bowed like a defeated warrior, she heard him whisper.

“When you drive... I feel like that little, awkward, gutless, helpless, useless _boy_ again.”

It was one of those moments when Randall made her heart – or what was left of it in the deep, dark, hollow pit in her breast – melt. Because he looked so lost and helpless. And yet, he trusted her so much that he let her see the deepest wounds, fears, and insecurities. She smiled and unfolded her arms.

“I'm sure that little boy wasn't gutless... I think in fact that that little boy was very, very brave.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her, insecure and incredulous.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because that boy grew up to become you. And because you are not giving credit easily, with a few exemptions. Paddy, namely. And the least kind you are always to yourself. Come on, Randall.”

She put both her hands on the table, facing up. An invitation.

“I think that you underestimate that little boy, Randall. And you underestimate the adult Randall, too. We have faced life-threatening situations, you and me, shells hitting close, gunfire, bombs, and you have never let that scare you out of your mind. Because you _are_ very brave. And because we were together. We are in this together, too. And just like we got out of every critical situation, we get out of this one, too.”

He accepted her invitation, putting his hands in hers. She closed her hands around his.

“Got you!”


	11. Fort William – Ardlui {Randall}

After a short stop to fill up, Randall headed out of Fort William. Being behind the wheel, being _in control_ , at least of the road ahead, made him feel a lot better.

That, and knowing that Lix was supporting him, of course.

He had no idea how she did it, but Lix had the ability to make him reveal his deepest, darkest secrets . And to admit all his fears, failures, and insecurities. It had been difficult, but finally he had been able to admit that he felt haunted by his memories.

And closed in by his past.

And besieged by this landscape.

As beautiful as it was, as frightening was it.

The hills towering everywhere.

The lochs with their endless depths.

Keeping secrets.

Hiding monsters.

Swallowing maidens.

But _his_ maiden was with him.

Lix was with him.

As they drove out of town, houses to the left, Loch Linneh stretched out to the right, he allowed himself for a moment to take Lix's hand and squeeze it.

She squeezed back.

His Lix.

She encouraged him to keep going.

To cross this landscape of memories.

To dare and go farther down.

Down South.

To Glasgow.

To face his demons.

To face the shadows of the past.

The memories.

The guilt.

It would be tough.

But he wasn't alone.

It was amazing what an amount of luck he had.

His Lix following him when he fled London.

Because she was worried.

His Lix allowing him to break down and cry like a baby in her arms in his hideaway.

Because she cared.

His Lix bearing with his strange behavior on the road since Berriedale.

Because she...

And what did he do?

_He was a miserable excuse of a man._

She drove the major part of the road, she had to entertain herself while he stayed mostly silent, and, worse, she had to deal with a fidgeting, neurotic, obsessed idiot.

What kind of a man was he?

Not really a _man_ , for most of this trip he had been a _toddler_!

Lix deserved better!

He should do something to please her.

What would please Lix?

What would she like to do?

What would make her trip more pleasant?

For a short moment he side-eyed the beautiful woman beside her.

Well, he knew what she liked.

It would take a lot of courage because he would run into some painful memories but if he summoned all his willpower, all his strength, he could do it.

He could do his very best and offer her an evening at what was commonly regarded as one of the most romantic places on this route.

“I originally planned to have the first night in Glasgow, but I don't think we need to exhaust ourselves... it is not too long until we reach Loch Lomond and I know a nice little hotel there. What do you think of a romantic dinner and a room with a view to the loch, Lix?”

“That sounds wonderful, Randall.”

He felt her hand crawling to his neck and her fingers went further, above the hairline, to the back of his head. If she felt the tension there, she didn't comment on it. Instead, her fingertips caressed his scalp in a slow, circular motion. Some of the tension went first to her fingertips and then out of his body.

It was a shame he had to drive, otherwise he would have just closed his eyes and let himself drown in the feeling of her magic fingertips.

“To Ardlui, then. I'm rather sure you will like it.”

Maybe that was a way out of this misery – just replacing the haunting memories with new, pleasant ones.

Finally, he had a _plan_.

Something to keep the demons away from him.

Something to keep his memories _under control_.

Something to _do_.

_Making pleasant memories with Lix._


	12. Fort William – Ardlui {Lix}

Something was haunting Randall. And it was more than he had let on. Something strong. Something powerful. Lix could tell. She always could.

However cryptic his sentences were when he was under pressure, usually their bond was strong enough she understood what was going on behind those blue-green eyes.

She felt the tension sitting in his neck when she slowly caressed his scalp. Stressed nearly out of his mind. And it wasn't the driving. Randall drove nearly mechanically, like on autopilot. It was another kind of tension. Maybe she could relax him a bit when they arrived at Loch Lomond.

They circled Loch Leven and Glencoe lay ahead. Lix would have loved to feel the atmosphere of that place. She was on the verge of asking Randall to take a break, when she stopped herself. It was probably not a decent thing to ask of a Scottish man. Especially not a Scottish man who was already haunted by _his own_ past.

They made their way through the mountains, an astonishing Highland scenery. It was a shame she hadn't taken her camera with her when she left London. But then again, probably everything around here was haunting Randall, so every stop would just torture him more. Maybe it was good the way it was. She looked out of the window and daydreamed about the past and how, even in the most beautiful places, humans couldn't think of anything better to do than slaughtering each other.

The time passed quickly and before she knew it, Randall was turning left, into the parking lot of a neat mansion next to the road. Only here she realized that there was a large loch stretching out, surrounded by hills. She got out of the car and was for a moment captured by the magnificence of the place.

“Oh, Randall, that's gorgeous,” she finally said.

“It is,” Randall ignored the scenery and just looked at her while saying it.

They went inside and booked a room, Randall boldly passing them as 'Mr. and Mrs. Brown', also making sure to reserve the best table for dinner at half past seven.

Lix went upstairs to their room while Randall went to fetch their suitcases. It was not only a room, it was a suite. Probably the best one they had, looking out to the loch. She stood at the window, admiring the view.

“I didn't promise too much, did I?” Randall murmured behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

“You didn't. This room must be the most expensive one they have.”

“You deserve only the best, Lix... Lix, Lix, _my_ Lix!”

Randall turned her around and kissed her. More passionately than usual and with a hint of desperation. She leaned into it and enjoyed it. It felt good being wanted like this. Sometimes, like now, she felt like a young, attractive woman again when she was in Randall's arms.

“We should perhaps prepare ourselves for dinner,” she said when they took a break.

“Well, it is not too posh a place,” Randall remarked, his accent a bit thicker than usual, before kissing her again. Lix enjoyed this new boldness.

“While that might be true, you sure don't want to go to the restaurant with a woman looking like a used mop in a crumpled trouser suit, do you, Randall?” She finally said, freeing herself from his embrace.

“You could wear a gunnysack and still be the most beautiful woman within miles,” Randall shrugged, letting her go with a sigh of regret.

She changed into her other costume and refreshed her make-up. To her surprise Randall had changed his suit, too. The best he had with him, she noticed to her surprise.

“I thought this wasn't a posh place?”

She grinned and couldn't resist to feel the cloth of the lapels with her fingers, knowing fully well that Randall would need to straighten them out again, even if the gesture had done nothing to it.

“I didn't want to embarrass you,” Randall said, matter-of-factually.

“You never do.”

Lix simply said, grabbed him by the lapels and pecked a small kiss on his lips. Then, she offered him her arm and he took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you wonder why Lix wanted to feel the atmosphere of Glencoe but stopped herself: read about the [Massacre of Glencoe](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Massacre_of_Glencoe) here, probably one of the most unnecessary ones in Scottish history, if there was such a thing as ranking unnecessary massacres...


	13. Ardlui, Restaurant {Randall}

So far it went well. The scenery was distracting enough. If Randall concentrated on _not_ focusing on it and _not_ drawing comparisons from the present to the past, or from the past to the present, everything was alright.

And if the memories came creeping in although he concentrated on not letting them, he just needed to focus on Lix.

Lix liked the hotel, Lix liked the room, Lix liked the restaurant. She looked breathtakingly beautiful and she smiled at him.

Perhaps it was really possible to forget the past and make new, better memories, together with her.

The dinner was served.

He had encouraged her to search for the most expensive dish on the menu.

He wanted to see her happy.

That would be the best distraction. When Lix was smiling at him, everything was alright. He was convinced that it even was a cure for the dark shadows from his past.

His steak tasted fantastic. Exactly how he wanted it, with just a hint of a rosy shade in the middle. He hated when waiters assumed he wanted his steak rare just because he was a man. He usually didn't order steak in restaurants for exactly that reason. He couldn't eat it if there were still hints of blood when he cut it. He had taken a high risk to order one here, and he took it as a good omen that it went so well.

Lix had just chosen the salmon, although there were more expensive dishes.

It didn't matter.

If it made her happy, he was happy.

“How is your salmon, my love?”

“Very good,” Lix smiled, “want to try?”

She offered him her fork with a piece of fish. It immediately turned his stomach. He had to look away. He shook his head.

“Not fond of fish?”

“No, that's not it... Just...”

Pictures tried to occupy his mind. He willed them away.

“...ah, well, just... reminds me of something, you know? Enjoy it, Lix. In fact, order another one if it makes you happy!”

“Are you trying to batten me, Randall?”

She giggled and took a sip of her white wine.

It was okay. He didn't feel like keeping her from something she enjoyed. He wanted to see her happy. He took his glass with water and raised it.

“Here's to you, Lix Storm. My fair, young maiden!”

“I'm neither young, nor fair, Randall.”

They clinked their glasses.

“To me, you are! And the most beautiful woman in the Highlands and beyond!”

“Oh, Randall, shut up, you make me blush!”

And he did. He had achieved that her cheeks turned pink beneath the make-up. It made her look even more adorable. Quite satisfied with himself, he paid attention to his steak again.

While they waited for the dessert, he decided that he would do something else to surprise her and keep himself distracted.

He got up and spoke a few words with the lad who served as their waiter and was also the receptionist. He probably did six other jobs in this hotel, too, it was a small one.

Then, Randall went back to the table.

The waiter served the dessert, then went to the old gramophone in the corner. Music started playing. A slow waltz.

Randall didn't comment on it. They just ate their cheese cake, a recommendation from the waiter.

“That's delicious!”

Lix smiled, and he agreed.

“What do you think?”

Randall asked, nodding towards the gramophone that played another slow waltz.

Lix looked at him, obviously trying to figure out what he wanted to tell her. She frowned.

Randall got up, smiling.

“Dancing, Lix? Trying to?”

He offered her his hand while she still stared at him, perplexed.

“If I don't practice, I never learn, you know?”

Lix smiled and nearly threw herself into his arms.

They started dancing.

Or whatever he tried to do. He managed to do something that somehow vaguely matched the music and Lix was patient enough not to comment on it. That was good. It kept him focused on everything else than the surroundings.

The view to the lake.

The view to the ferry to the other side, to Ardleish.

The pictures on the wall, showing a scene that was oh so terribly familiar.

He didn't pay attention.

He concentrated on placing his feet right.

He looked into the wonderful blue eyes of the woman he loved.

And felt her body close to his own.

 _This_ was all he needed.

 _This_ was the present.

Everything else was just the past.

The dark shadows couldn't catch him.

Not as long as he was in the arms of this woman.

_His home._

Nothing else mattered.

The music ended.

He took her chin in his hand and kissed her.

He didn't care who was looking.

This was the woman who anchored him in the present and he didn't care who would feel offended by them kissing in public.

“Should we take a walk outside, at the loch?”

Lix asked, breaking the kiss.

A shiver ran down his spine when he looked outside the window, to the loch and the ferry.

“To be honest, I would prefer to take a walk upstairs to our room, my love.”

He replied, kissing her again, before he took her arm and guided her out of the restaurant.


	14. Ardlui, Hotel Room {Randall}

As soon as Randall had closed the room door behind them, he kissed Lix.

Differently than in the restaurant.

Passionately.

Desperately.

Frantically.

And Lix, _his_ Lix, she answered accordingly.

But something wasn't right, tonight.

Usually, as soon as he felt her hands on his bare skin, especially when he felt her fingertips on that special place between his first and second lumbar, he was ready to do everything.

To please her.

To obey her.

To accept that she was in control.

Or to be in control himself if she wanted him to be.

To get lost in her eyes, then lost in her body, giving up even the illusion of control he might have had.

Tonight, however, even Lix's magic failed.

“What's the matter, Randall?”

Her eyes were dissecting him.

“Nothing.”

He mumbled, although he knew it was useless to lie to her.

“What's wrong?”

“I... I think I just need to get me some cigarettes.”

He said, putting his shirt back into his trousers, quickly, but still meticulously. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“I'll be right back, don't worry.”

He told her, door already in hand. She stood, blouse unbuttoned, her hair a mess, and stared at him, confused. He considered to add something, couldn't think of anything that wouldn't have sounded idiotic, and just closed the door behind him.

He went to the reception to buy some cigarettes. He didn't know if he did it in hopes it would really help or just so he wouldn't have straight out lied to Lix.

Nobody was there.

It didn't matter. He still had a half-empty packet in his coat.

He slowly went outside to the pier where the ferry brought tourists to Ardleish and back during the summer.

He lit a cigarette and looked into the darkness of the loch and over to the other side.

Darkness.

On the other side, everything was dark.

It resonated with the darkness within himself.

“ _He will never become a man if you mollycuddle him like that!”_

He heard his father say.

And:

“ _A man needs to be able to sustain himself in the woods, you know?”_

And:

“ _A writer? That's not a profession, that's a thing housewives do when their husbands earn too much money and they don't need to work! That's not a job for a real man. Well, now that I think about it... it would be fitting for you, Randall. You are a weakling! A sissy! A Jessie! A woman in man's clothes! You are not a_ man _, Randall!”_

His father had been right.

He wasn't a man.

If this trip had proven anything so far, then it was _this:_

That he wasn't a man.

Just now, he had failed in the most basic way a man could fail in being a man.

He heard footsteps behind him.

He froze.

High-heels.

Of course.

Of course, Lix came searching for him.

Like she always did.

He wasn't prepared to face her.

“Hey.”

Her voice behind him.

His hand was shaking so much it let go of the cigarette.

He watched it falling into the loch.

Nearly like in slow motion.

It reached the water, extinguished, and was swallowed by the water.

He grabbed the railing of the pier tight, just to have a hold on himself. Lix went to stand by his side, looking at him.

“I'm sorry.”

He mumbled, keeping his eyes on the water, on the place the cigarette had disappeared.

“It happens.” He saw her shrug in the corner of his eye. “No need to run away, though.”

“I didn't run away, I...”

He started, but fell silent as soon as he turned his head and saw her face.

Hurt.

He had _hurt_ her.

“It has nothing to do with you, Lix. It... it's...”

“Then _talk_ to me, Randall! Talk to me like a man instead of running away like a little boy!”

Maybe it was time.

Maybe it was time to admit his defeat.

Maybe it was time he finally admitted that his father had been right all along.

“I'm not a man, Lix.”

He told her, solemnly.


	15. Ardlui, Hotel Room {Lix}

Lix knew this would happen. That it was inevitable. That there would come this point in their relationship.

She had hoped that with Randall, it would be different. His declaration of love had been so convincingly, so honest, and the way he displayed absolute, unconditional devotion to her had been breathtaking at times. But she always had known that it would come to this. That there would be the time her physical attraction wore off. Not long afterwards he would realize the kind of personality he was stuck with.

People often remarked that they admired her strength. But that was just sugarcoating. In reality, it was what put them off. She was headstrong and confident, she did what she wanted to do, and she didn't adapt to anyone's wishes – especially not any man's wishes. Nobody could bear with that kind of personality for long. It drove people away from her. Especially lovers.

And now, Randall was close to that point.

She had felt it the whole evening. He tried to hide it, but it always had been there. Lingering in the tension she felt in his neck. Sneaking up behind them when they danced. Creeping with them to their hotel room. While both pretended that this was just an ordinary, romantic evening, subconsciously they both were aware that it wasn't.

That something was very close to breaking and it just needed one more little thing to make it snap.

As Lix stared after Randall who basically ran from her with the flimsy excuse to get himself some cigarettes, she knew that _this was it_.

Maybe a few more days they would pretend it didn't happen. Some uncomfortable conversations which trailed off after a few sentences. Maybe even getting back to bed together again, trying to revive the magic. But eventually, they would break up. A matter of days, maybe weeks.

Lix corrected her clothes and took a look in the mirror, adjusting her hair. Well, not a big surprise she hadn't been able to seduce him tonight. She looked _even older_ than usual. Tired and worn off. A shadow of her past, comparably attractive self.

She sighed, took her coat, and went to the lobby.

She had been sure she could get a glass of whisky – or better a whole bottle – here, but there was not a soul in sight. The reception wasn't manned.

She lit a cigarette and waited.

Maybe some fresh air would help as well.

She went outside and into the night.

In the distance, she saw a figure standing at the pier.

Randall.

Something hurt in the deep, dark hole in her chest.

That was the problem.

Breaking up had never been _so hard_.

All the boys and the men in her life... she hadn't _needed_ them. She could sustain herself. She was able to fight for herself, earn money for herself, and be good company for herself. She never needed a _man_ to be happy.

Breaking up was a bit uncomfortable and she always missed the touches, the feeling of being adored, the desire in their eyes. But she had never suffered emotionally from break-ups like other women.

But with Randall, it was different.

She didn't want to lose him.

She _needed_ him.

She needed his intelligent observations and the long conversations, even the arguments, about topics they both were passionate about.

She needed the feeling of his hand in hers when they went for a walk.

She needed the look of affection in his eyes when she told him about a new lead she had discovered, or just about her day.

She needed the sensation of his body close to hers when they made love.

She needed the small, nearly unnoticeable, adorable giggle that emerged from somewhere within him when something amused him. The one that made her actively search for funny things all day just to see if she could make him giggle in the evening.

As she stood, smoking... staring to the back of the man who was leaning to the railing, smoking, staring to the lake... she had to admit her defeat:

_She loved Randall Brown._

She was not able to let him go.

No, she was not _willing_ to let him go.

Not so easily.

She might have let others walk into and out of her life as if she was a revolving door. But not this one. The man who stood at the pier, it was _her_ man.

She would stand him up and make him talk.

Maybe she couldn't  _make_ him love her.

But maybe, she could make him _stay_ with her.


	16. Ardlui, Pier {Lix}

“Hey.”

Lix hadn't expected that her appearance would startle Randall _that_ much. He even let go of the cigarette he was holding. He grabbed the railing of the pier tight, as if he feared to topple over and follow it into the loch. What was he so afraid of?

“I'm sorry.”

He mumbled as she stepped beside him.

“It happens,” she shrugged, “no need to run away, though.”

“I didn't run away, I...”

He didn't finish the sentence.

“It has nothing to do with you, Lix. It... it's...”

The second attempt sounded even more miserable and pathetic than the first. She had to grab a hold on herself not to get angry at him.

“Then _talk_ to me, Randall! Talk to me like a man instead of running away like a little boy!”

Lix was tired of him trying to find the easy way out. She wanted to confront him and make him say what the problem really was. She already suspected it was her, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, but she needed him to tell her the truth.

“I'm not a man, Lix.”

Lix was taken aback. Randall never had shown any tendency to have an explicitly feminine side to him. She didn't know how to handle that revelation.

The difficulty with Randall was that other than his usual calm, rational self, when something was difficult to talk about, he needed to do all sorts of weird things to piece the words together, and it took an unnervingly long time until a sentence was out. And even then, his sentences were cryptic and it took some time to unpack them until the real meaning became clear.

Right now, he was separating the dew on the railing into even pieces, staring at the marks his fingers left.

“What... what do you mean? How are you not a man, Randall?”

“My father was right.”

Well, Lix had her own opinion on a father who expected an eleven-year-old boy to guard a suicidal mother, but she repressed the urge to tell Randall that. Instead, she carefully dug deeper.

“In which regard was your father right, Randall?”

“He always tried to make me a man, but he failed.”

“ _Make you a man_ , Randall? You can't _make_ someone a man. Someone is what he or she is. There is no such thing like 'making a man' or 'making a woman'. Whatever he did, the idea is already flawed.”

It was hard to suppress her anger at the mere stupidity of the concept.

“I didn't want to play soldier with the other boys. I wanted to read and draw. I didn't want to torture and kill animals. It made me sick when the other kids did it. I wanted to study animals, admire the elegance of a cat jumping from roof to roof, I could spend hours watching fish catching flies on the surface of the water...”

Once Randall was talking about the things he liked to do, the insecurity was gone. It was as if he had found the right track and now saw a path ahead he could follow.

“I spent hours watching the birds from the window of our flat, drawing them, trying to find out how flying worked. I got newspaper articles and books from the library to learn how flying worked. Nature was a source of endless wonder to me.”

There was a sad smile in the corner of his mouth.

“I see nothing wrong with that. You were a highly intelligent kid and loved to study and learn.”

“But it wasn't typical for a boy. My father did his best to try and teach me how to become a man. He showed me how to use a razor and how to tie a tie. He told me stories of the glorious battles our ancestors fought in the Highlands. We crossed quite a few of these places on our way to here. But I was too weak. My father was a good storyteller, you really could imagine all the details. And he took great care in describing the details of the cruelties done by our enemies. I... you know that I can't handle... blood... very well, especially large amounts of it...”

Even in the pale moonlight Lix could tell that Randall became a bit paler just from mentioning the term 'blood'. It was something that had already struck Lix as odd when they worked together in Spain. That a journalist covering a war wasn't good at handling blood and maimed bodies. There had been several occasions where he got sick facing rather harmless injuries like some severed fingers. He once explained that he saw it as his duty being able to cover every kind of story as a journalist and that it was kind of a moral obligation to cover the cruelty of war even if, or maybe especially because, he didn't handle it well. He compared it to Nelson being sea sick. He believed a disability should never keep one from pursuing what one was meant to do.

“But a lot of men don't handle cruelties well. I don't see how the two things connect, Randall.”

He looked at her, surprised. As if she had stated a new fact he needed to process.

“But isn't that the very definition of being a man? That you are numb to cruelties? That you can laugh at them as if they were a joke? Enjoy them, even? That you can take a weapon and kill another man without thinking twice? That you can torture an animal without feeling anything? Isn't that what makes men and women different?”

It made Lix angry. Not angry at Randall, but angry at his father. And angry at the way boys and girls were raised.

“What _stupid nonsense_ is this, Randall Brown?” She bellowed. “I tell you what kind of stupid nonsense that is! It is the stupid nonsense boys are told, and which makes them grow up to become exactly that. Cruel. Inconsiderate. Numb to other's feelings. Because they think that this is what makes a man a man! It is shaping them to become abusers, rapists, and murderers. I can't even believe an otherwise intelligent man does really believe this. What happened to your _brain_ Randall Brown? Is it on vacation, or what is it? I can't believe you can say something like that _out loud_ and don't instantly recognize what rubbish you just said!”

She could see Randall backing away from her, a hint of fear in his eyes.

What was he afraid of?

He should be aware that she wasn't angry at _him_ , he knew her well enough, didn't he?

But he looked at her as if she was about to beat him.

She had seen that flickering in men's eyes before and right now, she just wished she hadn't lost her temper.

Because Randall, _her_ Randall, he was outright _scared_ of her.

_He was expecting her to hurt him_.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to...”

He stammered. She felt her heart beating at her throat when she asked the next question:

“Randall, are you _scared_ of me?”

Randall stared to his feet.

“Oh Randall, I'm not mad at you.”

She moved closer.

He stood still.

At least something. He was no longer trying to get out of her range.

“I'm not mad at you. I try to explain that cruelty is not what defines a man.”

Randall kept staring at his feet, not saying anything. She was not sure if he had even heard what she had said. He nearly seemed paralyzed. It reminded her of Struie Hill, but this time, it seemed worse.

“Randall?”

Randall clenched his fists.

Did he want to fight her?

No, Randall was not the man who would turn to physical violence, ever. He was a a man of words, not fists.

And especially, he would never beat a woman, would he?

No, whatever went on inside the head of Randall, _her_ Randall, right now, she was sure that he never would do _that_.

And it didn't look like a fighting gesture. More one of helplessness.

Then, she heard it. Just a whisper. But a whisper that made her aware that deep down in the dark hole in her breast was a heart, and a heart that was just about to break.

“Please, don't leave me!”


	17. Ardlui, Pier {Randall}

Lix was angry at him. He had angered her. He had just tried to explain what was happening here, in this place, at this pier, and it had made her mad. He feared Lix Storm when she became a hurricane and it very well seemed to happen, right now. He slowly brought himself out of her reach. He had seen what Lix Storm was able to do when she was mad at someone.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to...”

He stammered.

“Randall, are you _scared_ of me?”

He stared to his feet.

“Oh Randall, I'm not mad at you.”

She moved closer.

He stood still.

Confused.

Helpless.

Not a man.

A small boy.

A small, scared, and confused boy, not knowing what was happening, confronted with someone he loved who was much stronger than him, angry with him, and about to hurt him.

“ _I'm not mad at you. I'm just teaching you how to be a man!”_

He heard his father say.

“I'm not mad at you. I try to explain that cruelty is not what defines a man.”

He heard Lix say.

It was difficult to tell them both apart. What was real, what was a memory, what was just an illusion, wishful thinking?

Would his father turn around and take him back with him?

Did he just want to scare him a bit and come back?

Was this all just a bad dream?

He wouldn't really let him alone here?

He sure would come back, wouldn't he?

“Randall?”

“Please, don't leave me!”

He begged. It was the only thing he could think of. Begging. Begging him to turn around and come back. He couldn't follow him. He was ordered to stay put, and so, he did. But he could beg. He was allowed to beg. It may be not what a _man_ did, but he could do this. Closing his eyes, clenching his little fists, and beg.

“Don't leave me, come back, please. Don't leave me here, all alone!”

“I'm not leaving you, Randall. I never said anything like this.”

“You did, you said I had to stay here for the night, so I learn to become a man.”

“I never said anything like that, Randall. That's ridiculous. Why should I want you to stay out on the pier for the night? It is much more comfortable in our hotel bed. And why on Earth should _that_ make you a man?”

“Because a man must be able to survive in the woods for the night.”

“Randall, there are no woods here. It is a pier. Please, Randall, you are not making sense.”

He felt the warmth and breathing of someone close. A bear? A wolf? His father?

“Randall, open your eyes and look at me!”

He obeyed.

And saw Lix's worried eyes close to him.

So, this was reality?

He blinked at her.

He looked down at his fists.

They had grown.

It were the fists of a grown man.

When did he grow?

Suddenly, he did understand.

This was reality.

It was 1958.

He was on his way back from Berriedale to London.

With Lix.

His fiancée.

The love of his life.

And he had just made an idiot of himself.

First he had just failed at being a man.

But now, he had failed at staying in reality.

There was a great calmness coming over him at this moment.

A knowledge.

An assurance.

Like a verdict finally spoken, at least taking the insecurity from the accused, he knew what he had to do.

“Lix, there's a train station in Ardlui. You take the train to London, tomorrow morning. Because I'm not in my right mind anymore. I don't know what just happened, but it seems I'm unable to tell the past from the present anymore. I don't know what that means, I just know that you should be a long way away from me. Whatever that was, it can't be good. Go back to the hotel, now. I'll sleep in the car. I think that's the safest option.”


	18. Ardlui, Pier – Hotel Room {Randall}

“Oh, Randall, dear, you are not some Shakespearean tragic hero, sending his comrades away, so he can die alone!”

Randall looked up, surprised by her choice of words. A small smile crinkled Lix's lips, and her eyes were sparkling like two stars. She looked as beautiful as ever and... at least not angry anymore.

“You are disturbed. You probably had some flashback of sorts. But that doesn't render you in any way dangerous.”

She took his right fist and uncurled it.

“From what I heard it seems that there are some terrible memories from your childhood. Randall, the last thing you need is a night outside, sleeping alone in a freezing car around this time of year, probably catching a cold. You more likely need a hot drink. And if you don't need a woman in your arms, you maybe need a friend who listens.”

She linked her arm with his and gently pulled him back towards the hotel.

His brain was too messed up to properly process what happened in the next few minutes. The next thing he was properly aware of was that he was leaning against the headboard of their bed in the hotel, coddled up in a blanket and there was a mug of steaming hot tea in his hands.

He still felt as if the boundaries between his past and his present were blurry. Didn't he sit wrapped up like this as a boy, too? With his mom smiling at him?

But that was not his mom.

This was Lix.

_Lix_ had refused to leave him out in the cold.

_Lix_ had brought him back here and provided him with tea and a blanket.

Like a small, confused boy.

He immediately felt ashamed again.

Now Lix crawled beside him on the bed and rested her back against the headboard, too.

“Come on, Randall. I know you are not too keen on talking, but why don't you rest your head on my shoulder and tell me what happened out there. What it was that scared you, thinking I was going to leave you?”

His thoughts traveled back to the pier for a moment. He winced and set the mug accurately down on the bedside table.

“I'd prefer not to.”

He mumbled, but rested his head on her shoulder, anyway.

It felt good.

Warm.

Secure.

Lix took his hand and interlaced their fingers.

“It's okay Randall, you don't have to.”

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.

“We were here. With my parents, you know?”

He finally said. He didn't really want to talk about it, but he wanted to tell her at the same time. It was really, really confusing.

“My father... he was against luxury. Every pence was saved. But... he also was proud that he worked himself into middle class and wasn't a _worker_ anymore. So... it was something to show off... that he could afford to borrow the car from a friend and spend a few days in the countryside with his family. Doing something the upper classes did as a pastime. It made him feel proud... showing his family was something special, you know?”

Lix nodded and squeezed his hand encouragingly.

“We came across many places we went to when I was small, today.”

He fell silent again, not really wanting to remember their trips along the lochs. But inevitably, he did. He closed his eyes and tried to will away the pictures.

“I don't understand this, Lix. I don't understand what happens here. It was... at the pier. It wasn't that I _remembered_ it. It was _real_. It was _happening_. I was a boy again. Not like a memory... _real_. And even now... I... I... Lix...”

He opened his eyes to look at her. He freed his hand and grabbed her chin, guided it so she had to look at him. She had a right to know. And he wanted to see her eyes when he told her.

“Lix, I'm going mad. I think this is what is happening. I'm losing my mind. Even now it is hard to tell if this is reality or if I'm still a boy, coddled up by my mom, after...”

He tumbled into the other reality again. But this time, he focused on Lix's eyes.

Beautiful blue eyes.

Very different from his mom's green eyes.

Very different from his dad's blue-grey eyes.

If he wasn't able to tell which of the two states he switched between was the reality, he wanted to choose the one he preferred to be in.

And that was the place those blue eyes existed in.

Lix's eyes.

And the eyes had hands.

Hands that gently caressed the back of his head.

And the eyes had a voice.

A voice that said:

“Don't be afraid. You are not going mad, And I'm with you. Always.”


	19. Ardlui, Hotel Room {Lix}

Lix knew it. She knew the flickering in the eyes, the dilated pupils, the general appearance of a wounded animal on the flight.

“Don't be afraid. You are not going mad, And I'm with you. Always.”

She reassuringly caressed the back of Randall's head.

“You are not going mad, Randall. I have never seen it with childhood memories, but I _have_ seen it with soldiers who had been traumatized by terrible things that happened on the battlefield, in the trenches, sometimes in the supposed safety of their own barracks. To themselves. To their comrades. To civilians. Sometimes even to their enemies. You have experienced a flashback. Nobody wants to talk about it because it doesn't align with the popular image of the soldier fearlessly fighting for his country, coming home in victory, carrying on his daily life with his family as if nothing had happened. It doesn't align with this image that trauma always leaves scars. That there are images you can't let go. That the past comes back, tricking your mind, making you stand on the battlefield again. But it is pretty common. I even wanted to cover that topic back in the day but it was made very clear to me that nobody wants to hear it.”

“I'm not a soldier.” Randall's voice had dropped to a whisper. “I don't know who I am anymore.”

He looked at her, helplessness personified.

Lix did the only thing that felt appropriate at the moment. She reached around his shoulders and guided him to rest his head in her lap. He didn't put up any resistance. On the contrary, he literally slumped there. She rested one hand on his shoulder, stroking his head with the other.

“You are Randall Brown. You are Head of News at the BBC. And right now, you are in a hotel room in Ardlui with your fiancée who happens to love you very much. And I think that a Randall from the past, a small, and very, very brave little boy who has been through a lot, is also here. And now, when adult Randall comes visiting those places again that little boy wants to tell his story. Because he had to keep it in for too long. Don't you think that could be possible?”

Randall nodded in her lap but said nothing.

“You know, Randall, all those soldiers who suffer from flashbacks... it doesn't make them any less _men_ than others who are not affected by the cruelties they saw and did. If anything, it makes them more human, because they are not numb and insensitive. Cruelty still has an impact on them.”

Instead of an answer, Randall clung to her, not saying anything.

“Nothing bad can happen anymore, Randall. It is safe around here. Whatever happened, it isn't here anymore.”

“I was ten,” a hesitant, muffled voice came from her lap. “I was ten when my father decided we would spend a prolonged weekend up here. There were a few lodges at the lake you could rent, former fisherman's lodges, I think. Not too expensive.”

He fell silent again. Lix caressed his head encouragingly.

“One day, in the afternoon, my dad shouldered the backpack and we took the ferry to Ardleish. I was excited because when I went out with my father, 'just us two men', like he put it, I always learned many things. It didn't happen too often. But he had taught me how to fish, and how to read animal's traces, and which plants around were edible.

“On the other side of the lake, we hiked south, along small paths he seemed to know quite well. At some point, he took a path I couldn't even spot between the high grass and plants, and we went into the woods. It was more of a climbing tour than a hike. It was steep and scary and exhausting and I didn't know where we went. Then, already late that afternoon, we reached a small rock spur and my dad set down the backpack.”

Randall took a deep breath.

“He told me that this was it. That he would leave me there and that he expected me to stay on that spur for the night. I'd find everything I needed in the backpack. And that I shouldn't go after him. That I could show up in Ardlui, but not any sooner than the next morning. And that if I managed that, staying up here, at the 'Old Nick's Lookout' for the night, I would be a _man_ and he would never treat me like a little boy again. And then, he turned and climbed back down.”

“He left you in the middle of nowhere to camp for the night?”

“He did. At first, I thought he was joking and I hoped he would come back, ruffle my hair and say that it was worth to see my scared face. But he didn't come back. When I realized he really went away without me, I wanted to beg him to come back, to stay with me, but I couldn't say a word. I tried to beg, I tried to shout, I tried to scream, but... I don't know... I couldn't use my voice anymore. I guess it was because I was scared.”

“What a cruel, cruel thing to do!”

“You think it is cruel?”

“Of course, it is one of the cruelest things I can think of. Abandoning a small boy in the woods for a whole night alone.”

“I assumed it was normal. Some kind of ritual every Scottish boy my age had to go through at some point. To become a man.”

Randall murmured.

“Nonsense, Randall. I have never heard of any father doing something like this to his son.”

She kept caressing the grey hair of a fifty-year-old who she imagined as a small, scared, ten-year-old, abandoned in the woods at a place called 'Old Nick's Lookout'.

“Oh.”

A long moment of silence.

Then, Randall moved, turned around in her lap and looked up at her with the big, incredulous eyes of a small boy who heard something that was simply unbelievable.

“I always assumed it was normal and I just failed.”

“You can't fail in something that is in no way a fair test, in something that is wrong from the start, Randall.”

The way he looked at her, the realization hit her: What Lix had learned very early in her life, that life wasn't fair, that the world was rigged against her, and the only way to go about it was to fight it with everything she could use to fight back, it was something Randall hadn't even considered to be a possibility in fifty years of living.

Lix always assumed that there was a system with rules set up _against_ _her_ , and she had to outsmart them to _beat_ them.

Randall, however, always assumed that whatever the system was, _the system was right_ and if he didn't manage to follow its rules, he _failed_.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, trying to process what they just learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: There is no place called "Old Nick's Lookout" around Loch Lomond, at least to my knowledge. I made it up. Originally I called it "Mahuon's Lookout", after another Scottish nickname for the devil, but after learning about the [origins of the word Mahoun](https://www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2011/11/scots-word-of-the-season-mahoun/) I decided to leave that name buried on the scrap heap of history, where it belongs.


	20. Ardlui, Hotel Room, A Night at Old Nick's Lookout {Randall}

It was still shameful to tell this story. But somehow, in Lix's eyes, it didn't seem like a complete, terrible defeat. Instead... she seemed to think that his _father_ had been in the wrong. He didn't understand this.

He didn't understand a lot of things.

But Lix was here.

He rested in her lap and looked up at her, and from this perspective she seemed even more beautiful. And she listened. She wanted to hear his story. That was... it made it less shameful. Less painful, too. Nearly enjoyable.

“What did you do?”

Lix asked, letting her fingers run through his hair.

“I did as I was ordered, I stayed up there. I didn't want to disappoint my father. And I craved to become a man. I hoped that if I managed to do this, no one could call me a sissy and a Jessie any more.”

He sighed, thinking about all the names he was called by the other boys and his cousins, and how they said he didn't even deserve floggings because it was like beating a girl, as unable as he was to defend himself effectively with his fists. He pushed away those memories and got back to the little boy at 'Old Nick's Lookout'.

“First, I tried to make myself comfortable for the night. In the backpack was a sleeping bag, a tarp that could also be used as rain cape, some tools, and a box of matches to make a fire. I searched for fire wood but it was all too wet. I mean, it was summer, but it had rained for quite a bit. Or I was just not skilled enough. However, I didn't get the fire burning.   
“I was hungry, but it was already late, and so I didn't dare to go down to the loch to try and catch some fish. I was afraid I wouldn't find my way back to the rock spur in the dark.”

“Wait, your father didn't pack any food?”

“Oh, yes, a package of crackers, a fishing line and some bait for fishing.”

“He expected you to catch your own food?”

“Sure.”

Randall shrugged.

“In the _woods_?”

“Well the Allt Rostan was flowing nearby and it wasn't too far from the loch.”

“Stop searching for excuses for your father, Randall! I hadn't expected this to get any crueler, but it did.”

“Well, it seemed cruel to me, but then again, this was my test if I was a man and he had promised to never say that I wasn't one if I mastered this challenge, so, I think it was part of it. He had taught me how to fish but I was never able to kill them. It was a way to force me to get over this fear or inability.”

Lix sighed, he didn't know why.

“What happened then? You didn't have a fire to keep you warm...”

“No, although the sleeping bag provided some warmth. I made a makeshift tent with the tarp and some branches so I was protected from the occasional rainfalls. I leaned myself against a rock, so no wild animal could attack me from behind. But it is a strange thing when you are alone in the woods and it is getting dark. Have you ever done that, Lix?”

“No, I never felt that strange desire, Randall!”

“Glad you didn't have to. Suddenly, everything you hear becomes a potential menace. You analyze every sound. Every rustling in the bushes, every snapping of a twig, every sound the wind makes and could be the breathing of an animal just as well. You might be a rational human being in daytime, but at night, alone in the woods, your mind plays tricks on you. You hear things that aren't there, you start imagining things.”

He felt the horrors of that night creeping back into his mind. He gulped. But Lix was with him. He grabbed her hand which was caressing his hair to make sure he stayed in reality.

“When something broke from the brushwood and ran towards me, I was convinced it was Old Nick himself. The place for sure had the name for a reason. I got out of my sleeping bag and grabbed the stick I had prepared to defend me, but instead of looking what it was that came towards me, I just ran. I ran down towards the loch, not really finding the path we used when we climbed up there. I stumbled, I fell, I ripped my pants, I got up again and ran further. It was a steep hill, and densely growing wood with a lot of shrubbery, but finally, I made it to the path along the loch. I looked behind me, but nothing was following me.”

He took a deep breath, feeling the relief again. Lix did the same. He hadn't realized she had been holding her breath.

“Of course, I was too afraid to go back to fetch my things. At least here, at the loch, I could see something in the moonlight. So, I accepted my defeat and marched back to the pier at Ardleish. As soon as I saw the lights on the other side of the loch, my hands and knees started shaking and I broke down next to the pier.

“I think it was that the tension was finally released, the adrenaline rush wearing off, you know? Maybe also a bit dehydrated. And I had some minor scratches from the passing of the shrubbery, and a deeper one on my shinbone where I ripped my pants. You know I don't handle blood very well, I think seeing my own was enough to let me pass out.”

Lix said nothing but pulled him a bit closer to her body. It felt warm and comforting.

“I think I was out for a bit and perhaps drifted from being unconscious into a sleep state. Next thing I know is that two strong arms took me and threw me over their shoulder. A fisherman who was out for a catch at dawn had seen my body. He wrapped me in a blanket and tried to feed me some cold salmon sandwich, but my stomach didn't want it. I think that's why, to this day, I can't stand salmon.

“Anyway, he brought me back to Ardlui and to my parents. My father just looked at me, deeply disappointed, but he didn't beat me. Well, he slapped me twice for getting my pants ripped, wetting myself, and especially not bringing the backpack with me, but he didn't say anything more. He just went out, fetching it. My mom coddled me up, very much like you did now, and gave me hot tea. I think my body cooled off a bit while I lay on the pier, at least I remember I couldn't stop shivering.”

He shivered a bit at the memory which earned him another comforting hug from Lix. It felt strangely good to have it out in the open. Time for the conclusion.

“Well, that's it, Lix. That's the story about how I failed in becoming a man. And to this date, I never managed to become one.”


	21. Ardlui, Hotel Room, Parents and Children {Randall}

“Well, that's it, Lix. That's the story about how I failed in becoming a man. And to this date, I never managed to become one.”

Randall drew his conclusion.

“Rubbish, Randall!”

Lix said softly, frowning, still caressing his head.

Why didn't she see it? It was so obvious!

“But it is true, Lix. You see, like I failed my father's test back then, I keep failing in being a _real_ man. All the way and every time. I abandoned you in Spain, I came back to London, torturing you with finding out about Sofia, I fled and made you come searching for me in Berriedale, I burdened you with my past. And obviously, I even fail in being a man in bed, now. Look at me, lying here like a baby, moaning about my childhood. It is not what a _real man_ does. It's disgusting!”

He spit it out as the full extend of his failure hit him like a gigantic fist.

“Rubbish, Randall,” Lix repeated, this time letting her thumb run over his cheek. “The only thing I see is a very brave, very determined ten-year-old who had managed a difficult, and, if you think closely, potentially life-threatening situation his father unexpectedly, irresponsibly and deliberately had gotten him into, in a way many grown men I know would not have been able to. You acted very rational and logical, building you a tent, not taking any irrational risk, going back to a place where it was more likely that people would find you... that's all very grown-up. And you were only ten. It seems to me you had to become a man long before you should be one.”

“There are so many things I don't understand, Lix.”

He loathed himself, but at least, having heard all the things he felt guilty about spoken out loud, it was easier to talk.

“I always think about Sofia. I often think about my mom. Almost every day. But I never thought about my childhood much. It never haunted me. It wasn't a bad childhood until my mom...” he gulped, willing away the image of her in the bathtub, “...until _that_ day. You could even say it was a happy childhood.”

“What you told me didn't look like a happy childhood to me, Randall. Your father telling you stories until it made you sick, then, abandoning you in the woods...”

“But he didn't drink and come home late to beat and rape my mother like the fathers of my friends. He always treated her with respect and care. And he never beat me really bad. He slapped me, occasionally, but not as much as other boys were by their fathers.”

“Still not what I count as good parenting, Randall.”

“No... I sure would have done it differently with...”

The pain washed over him again. He saw Sofia how he imagined her to be. A small, sturdy, intelligent, headstrong girl, nut-brown hair, a bit lighter than her mother's, arguing with her father about whether or not she could have some ice-cream before dinner. Him, a proud dad, taking her to school the first day. Her, insisting that she didn't need his hand when balancing on a log. Him, teaching her all the things he knew from his father about being out in the country, building a makeshift tent, showing her the different kinds of fish, but probably not how to catch them, and for sure never, ever abandoning her in the woods... but he had done something worse. He had abandoned her before she was even born...

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt Lix brushing something wet away from his cheeks.

“Shhhhh,” she murmured, “it wasn't meant to be. From a rational standpoint, you and I know that. I would lie to you if I said I have _accepted_ it. But it was war. It were terrible times. It just wasn't meant to be that you and I...”

He looked up and saw tears glistering in her eyes, too. He tried a smile and brushed over her cheek, too.

For a long moment, both just looked at each other. Feeling the pain. Lingering on thoughts what might have been.

“She would have been just like her mother, I imagine. Just as beautiful, and just as strong. At least that's what I tell myself.”

“I hope not, Randall. At least not for the strength. Strength isn't a good thing, Randall. Not always. Not what seems like strength to you. If anything, I wish she would have inherited your gentleness and your kind heart.”

“I miss her.”

It was the first time her dared to say what he had kept inside for so long. He knew it would make Lix sad. But they were both sad already, so it didn't matter anymore.

“I know it sounds stupid, because I never saw her, but I miss her.”

“Randall...”

He saw tears filling her eyes again. But he couldn't stop himself from saying it. He was too weak, tonight.

“I know I would have made a miserable father, especially the way I was back then, irresponsible, drunk, not taking life serious enough...”

“Randall...”

He felt the tears welling up in his own eyes, now, but he just kept talking.

“...but still, I can't stop thinking about what might have been. I can't stop imagining how it could have been. How I could have made things _right._ How I could have showed her things, encouraging her to learn, show her how beautiful this world is if you look at the small details, at birds in the air and the fish in the stream. And most of all, encouraging her to be _herself_ , become not what _I_ wanted her to become but what _she_ wanted to _be._ ”

He took a deep breath to bring the last, the final sentence out that needed to be out in the open before it destroyed him.

“I just would have loved to try and be a good father.”

Then he started to sob uncontrollably. It was a good thing he already rested in Lix's lap, otherwise he couldn't have supported his body any longer.

“Randall... I miss her, too.”

Lix just said, before she also started to cry.

For the rest of the night, until they fell asleep from exhaustion, they didn't talk much. They, however, allowed themselves to cry on each other's shoulder over a daughter they had never been given the chance to know. And about the possibilities they lost. Just like his childhood had sneaked up after Randall to finally overpower him, now, their common grief did.

Something had happened that night. It was nothing supernatural, but in a way, it was still magic: A fifty-year-old Randall was finally able to beg not to be left alone where a ten-year-old hadn't been able to say the words. And two parents were finally able to grief for the child they lost.

It was just about time.


	22. Ardlui, Hotel Room, A Morning {Randall}

Randall woke up and found he hadn't moved from the position he had fallen asleep in. His forehead still rested against Lix's forehead on the pillow. They had exhausted themselves in their grief and had been fallen asleep just like they were. Fully clothed. Only his hand wasn't on her head anymore, it was back at his side.

For a moment, he didn't dare to move. There were a lot of things he would never be able to do. He would never hurt Lix. At least not deliberately. And he would never, ever be able to wake her up. Not even with a kiss. Sometime, long ago, he had read about a native tribe somewhere that believed it brought bad luck to wake a child. He was rather sure it would bring him bad luck if he woke Lix.

But he needed to stretch his bones and he felt terribly uncomfortable in his used clothes. In slow, nearly turtle-like motions he retreated from Lix and got up. He tiptoed to the washing bowl, washed himself and got into fresh clothes, always facing Lix to be sure it didn't disturb her.

He needed fresh air in his lungs, yet, he didn't want her to worry when she found his side of the bed empty. He grabbed a sheet of the letter paper the hotel provided and gave a thought on how to word his note in a way it wouldn't worry Lix. Last time he did that, it went horribly wrong. He just hoped that this time, he had learned his lesson. He opened his fountain pen, took a deep breath and then, wrote what his heart told him in one swift, determined, loving movement.

_Good morning, my love!_

_I hope you had a peaceful sleep with the sweetest of dreams._

He was rather sure she hadn't. At least _his_ dreams had been horrible. But he was allowed to wish for her night to have been better. It was a good wish.

_I didn't dare to wake you up, my sleeping beauty, because even my most tender kiss would have startled you and if there is one thing I never want to do is to frighten you in any way. I still feel terrible for having frightened you that much yesterday, on several occasions._

That was the truth. He forced himself not to think about Struie Hill, Tobar nan Ceann, Fort William, and the night at the pier.

_If I had a rose, I would leave it on the pillow, together with this note, to say thank you for last night. I know I promised you an romantic evening and that this one went horribly wrong. I promise you to make up for it in hopefully many romantic nights to come for you and me._

_Yesterday evening, you had to take care of a ten-year-old and I'm sorry for it. I don't know how many men live in this Empire who can claim that they have a woman by their side who will still stay understanding and caring if their fifty-year-old fiancé suddenly transforms into a ten-year-old boy, but my guess is that I am the only one._

_So, thank you. Thank you for accepting me, even when I act really strange. I still don't understand what happened yesterday, but I know that I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there to take care of me._

That was that. It was good that he had pen and paper, because he was rather sure he wouldn't have found the courage and the words to say _that_ into her face. And she would probably have interrupted him saying it.

_I'm just going for a little walk to the pier to stretch those old bones a bit and have a look at the loch and maybe watch some fish. Give me a shout when you are ready for breakfast and I will be happy to join you._

On second thought he could bring her breakfast to bed. But that would also wake her up before her time. No, he decided, it was better this way. And he really needed to get some crisp morning air in his lungs to drive the last remnants of his nightmares out of his mind.

_I love you, Lix Storm. You are the best thing that ever happened to me._

He re-read the letter. His editor self complained that it sounded like taken out of a cheesy romantic novel written for sixteen-year-old teenagers. But he told himself that if Lix was able to love his ten-year-old past self, she would also appreciate his corny teenage self writing a love letter to his heart-throb.

He signed the letter with a expressively curved _“Randall”_. He contemplated leaving a kiss on it, scolded himself for being ridiculous, got up and carefully put it on the pillow next to Lix, before grabbing his coat and tiptoeing out of the room.

Three instances of himself closed the door behind them and headed to the pier: A ten-year-old boy, a sixteen-year-old teenager, and a fifty-year-old man. They were all a bit scared and confused by the events of last night, but they all loved Lix Storm with their one heart.


	23. Ardlui, Hotel Room, A Morning {Lix}

Lix smiled, reading the letter in bed. While she had had a lot of lovers in her life, she never had anyone who had been old-fashioned or romantic enough to write her love letters. Maybe because she had an upfront way to go about things, maybe because the men thought a strong woman would laugh at something childish like a love letter, maybe just because she had been too readily available in her youth, didn't make them beg or acted as if she was hard to get...

It was useless to speculate. The only thing that mattered was that Randall, strange, old-fashioned, romantic Randall, wrote beautiful love letters, even if he thought he just left a note or an invitation.

She never had been an early riser and usually refused to say a word before she had at least two cups of coffee, but this morning, she felt she couldn't get outside fast enough to look for her knight in inconspicuous armor who wrote the letter.

It was a clear, bright, sunny morning. The temperature, however, had dropped significantly compared to the days before. Fog was rising from the lake and the woods, and there were hints of white frost in the shadows.

Randall stood at the pier, looking out to Ardleish like yesterday night.

She approached him from behind and had, for a short moment, the childish urge to wrap herself around him from behind and tickle him to see if she could make him giggle.

She settled for the milder possibility.

She said “Good morning!” shortly before she wrapped her arms around him, and rested her chin on his shoulder. It sent a shiver through him, the sudden onslaught of affection obviously startled him.

“Lix!” He murmured, grabbing her hands, wrapping her even closer around him, as if she were a cape.

“You were up early, Randall, dear?”

“Always. Probably the age. I hope you slept well, my love?”

He placed a kiss on her right hand.

“Very good. You?”

The strange thing was that it wasn't a lie. Somehow, falling asleep after being exhausted from grieving had sent her into a dreamless, deep sleep, and she felt rather relaxed and energized. But she couldn't tell him that she had enjoyed crying together with him, could she?

“Me, too.”

Somehow, it didn't sound convincing. She didn't feel like digging too deep and instead thought about a lighter topic.

“You saw any fish?”

“Some brown trouts, some roaches, unfortunately, no powan, so far. I loved doing that as a boy...” he trailed off, looking to the shore on the other side of the lake. “I still don't understand why my mind played tricks on me, yesterday. I'm so sorry to have put you through it.”

“Memories, Randall. They are not always consistent. But they are triggered by places we knew... I wonder why you stopped here. It seems to me quite logical that it brought the memories from your childhood back. You could have chosen a place a bit less closely tied to your childhood.”

“Yes... it is nearly like something inside me wanted to push me into that pain again... well, maybe it is far more simple than that: it is one of the most romantic places I know, and I somehow hoped... if I could spent the night here with you, I could replace the painful memories. Maybe even transform them, making happy memories.”

“You did.”

“Not happy memories, not a romantic night, not at all. It was all...”

He freed himself from her grip and turned around to face her. He let his hand run along her cheek until he reached her chin, letting it linger there for a moment.

“You deserve better, Lix. So much better. Not painful memories. Not mine. And especially not yours. It was a very bad idea to bring you here. And I'm sorry for everything that happened last night.”

Well, maybe it was really time to tell him.

“Randall, dear... you know... it was _good._ I think last night... it was the first time I really, properly was able to _cry_ about what happened to Sofia. Not tears of shock... or of self-loathing... no... _crying for the little girl_ , you know? Really, properly crying about our daughter and all we lost and all that was lost on her. It was very sad... but at the same time... it felt good to admit I missed her... and see that you missed her, too. That we have lost something precious and valuable. But that we are truly, honestly, in this together. Not some random people who happened to have made a mistake in Spain... but _parents_ who have lost their only daughter.”

She saw a well- known glistering in his eyes, and a warm glow. She cupped both his cheeks and placed a tender kiss on his lips.

“You would have made a wonderful dad. The best. The only one Sofia would have deserved. I'm glad you have taken me here and showed me a piece of your childhood, even if it was not a happy memory. Maybe especially because it was a terrible memory. You showed me a piece of yourself and trusted me to take care of you. That is... I know it sounds a bit odd... but it is something very beautiful and precious, Randall.”

Randall smiled a sad smile, then wrapped his arms around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. He held her tight without saying a word, just occasionally rubbing her shoulder with his thumb or moving his other hand up and down her spine.

“My love,” he murmured after a while, “Lix, Lix, _my_ Lix.”

It was all he had to say. Maybe all he could manage. But it was okay. He held her as if she was the most treasured thing in his life and didn't want to let her go anywhere.

But it was really freezing cold, even if the sun was warm on her back.

“Randall?”

“Mhm?”

He seemed to have no intention to release her from his grip.

“Since when are you outside?”

“I don't know. Shortly after dawn, I think.”

“Aren't you hungry? You wrote I should give you a shout when I'm ready for breakfast, and, well, I am.”

“Oh,” he loosened the grip and looked at her like a teenager who was caught doing something stupid or forbidden, “oh, of course, you must be starving! Let's go!”

While they enjoyed an extensive breakfast, Lix noted that quite a few other guests eyed them, obviously trying to establish if they were looking at an old married couple or two extremely overaged teenagers in love, just about to discover each other.

It amused her a great deal that people couldn't make up their minds – because she and _her_ Randall...

_They really were both._


	24. Ardlui – Glasgow {Randall}

It was nearly as if everything was okay. Randall was behind the wheel of his car, it was his own car, _he_ owned it, it wasn't borrowed from anybody, it was nice and clean. He was a grown man, not a boy or a teenager. And, most important, beside him sat the most beautiful woman in the world who understood, accepted, and supported him like no one ever had.

He reached for her hand beside his own and squeezed it, just to make sure that this was true.

She squeezed back.

It was true.

It was okay.

Lix was with him.

His home was with him.

If his home was with him, he could go...

_Home._

He shivered at the thought. But it had to be. He had again seen how much his past haunted him. Even minor failures. Or failures Lix insisted on not even being failures.

How much more was this true for the _guilt_ that weighed him down.

He had to face it.

He wanted to have a future with Lix, a happy one, without his past constantly sneaking up behind him, torturing him by day, haunting him at night, following him in his dreams.

He hoped that if he faced the demons they would cease to have power over him.

And he hoped that if he was able to make peace with the ghosts, they had no reason to return to haunt him.

Demons and ghosts.

Ghosts and demons.

He wasn't sure which of the two he feared the most.

But two they were.

Ghosts and demons.

Demons and ghosts.

Two.

Different.

Similar.

Haunting.

Two he would have to face.

To find peace.

“Say goodbye to Loch Lomond and the Highlands, Lix,” he said when they crossed Arden.

“It _is_ beautiful up here, Randall. I'd love to spend more time here. But I guess it will never be a place where you can relax, right?”

Her hand crawled to his neck and massaged a tight spot there. He wished they were already in London. Right now, feeling her hand on his neck, he wished for nothing else than for the bed in his flat in London, just lying down and giving himself up to her ministrations, diving into and drowning in Lix.

No fears.

No worries.

No past.

Just the present.

Just peace.

Just Lix.

But of course, this wasn't possible.

“Probably never, Lix. I'm sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for something that isn't your fault, Randall.”

Her hand traveled higher, above the hairline, and the massaging turned into a gentle caressing of the back of his head.

“Whatever it is, the fear in your neck, Randall, I'm sure that your brain exaggerates it.”

“I wish. I can't tell you how much I wish for that to be true, Lix.”

He just answered, already seeing the outskirts of Glasgow approaching.

Time to stop running away.

Time to face the ghosts and the demons.

_Time to be the man he never was._


	25. Glasgow, Southern Necropolis {Randall}

It was a simple gravestone. His family never was fond of unnecessary luxury. Not that they could have afforded any. But they also didn't believe in it.

Engraved in the sandstone was a bold “Brown”. Below, five names were listed:

Rory Ronald

Millicent May

Elizabeth Mary

Susan Gladys

Charles Henry

No maiden names for the wives, no dates. You had to know them to know who they were and how they were related.

It was as if his family didn't believe in leaving too much of a footprint on this Earth.

In front of his eyes, however, they were still alive.

All of them.

He let the painful memories wash over him.

Again and again.

He felt cornered by them.

He hoped it would stop at some time, but it didn't.

The only thing that reminded him that all this was just in his head was a hand that held his.

Lix held his hand, ever since they had stepped in front of the headstone.

But the eyes of his grandfather, they were still upon him.

And the eyes of his father.

Their judgement was clear.

There was no use arguing against it.

Or explaining the circumstances.

There was nothing he could bring up in his favor.

He just had to accept their judgement.

He had ran from it for far too long.

“I'm sorry,“ he mumbled.

“What are you sorry for?“ Lix asked beside him.

He gave her an irritated glance.

Right.

She couldn't see inside his head.

She couldn't understand what was going on.

That this was a trial.

A trial he had fled too long.

A trial long due.

A trial that now, hopefully, had come to an end.

He just had to say it out loud and accept the sentence.

He let go of Lix's hand, folded his hands in front of him, bowed his head and mentally turned again to his father and his grandfather.

“I'm sorry I brought dishonor to the family. I'm sorry I haven't carried on the tradition. I can just ask you for forgiveness. I can't change what happened. I can't make up for it. I tried, but I'm not strong enough. It is not fair to make someone else's life a misery just because I am how I am. Listen, it wasn't possible. I try to make amends in every other way, but _this_ way, it just wasn't meant to be. I'm sorry.“


	26. Glasgow, Southern Necropolis {Lix}

Randall had let go of her hand and stood there, in front of the simple grave with the five names she didn't know, head bowed, hands folded, a beaten man.

It had been a scary sight right from the beginning. He had said barely a word as they walked here. He had said nothing more than “I'm sorry,“ since they stood at the grave. He was white as a sheet, obvioulsy tortured, but he didn't let her see inside.

And right now he spoke, in a ghostly voice that didn't seem to belong to himself. All signs of confidence, even all signs of _life_ gone, just a broken soul, a soul that was defeated, a soul accepting the death sentence, worse, eternal condemnation:

“I'm sorry I brought dishonor to the family. I'm sorry I haven't carried on the tradition. I can just ask you for forgiveness. I can't change what happened. I can't make up for it. I tried, but I'm not strong enough. It is not fair to make someone else's life a misery just because I am how I am. Listen, it wasn't possible. I try to make amends in every other way, but _this_ way, it just wasn't meant to be. I'm sorry.“

As much as she respected that Randall needed to be left alone with some things, that he needed to let his thoughts run free without being interupted by someone else, now, she couldn't take it any longer that he didn't let her see inside his mind.

She turned to him and gently cupped his folded hands with her hands.

“Randall, please, tell me what this is about. How did you dishonor your family? What was the way you couldn't follow?“

He looked at her as if she wasn't real. As if he didn't recognize her.

“Randall, you look like an accused man accepting his death sentence. I think you should tell me what happens so I can understand it. I'm with you. Whatever it is, just _talk_ to me, Randall.“

Randall closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at her again.

“Lix?“

He sounded a bit like someone who woke up from a dream.

“Yes?“

“I'm sorry.“

He didn't elaborate. He just turned a bit and took her hands in his.

“You always are apologizing, Randall, with reason and without. What are you sorry for? What is this all about?“

He looked at her a few more moments. Then he wrapped his right arm around her shoulder, faced the grave again, while pulling her close.

“Perhaps it is time to introduce you to my family, Lix. And you to them: Rory Ronald, my grandfather, Millicent May, my grandmother, Elizabeth Mary, my sister who died aged two, S... Susan Gladys,” he gulped, “my mom. And Charles Henry, my father.”

He took a deep breath, and added, with a sense of determination:

“And this is Lix Storm. My future wife.”

“Delighted to meet you,” Lix murmured. She didn't believe in an afterlife or in communicating with the dead, but she sensed it would be the polite thing to do if Randall introduced her.

Randall took another deep breath, then, side-eyed her insecurely.

“I... I think I would like to tell him... about... Sofia, Lix. If... if it is okay for you.”

Lix wrapped her arm around Randall's middle.

“It is your family, Randall. You tell them what you want to tell them. I'm here. We are in this together.”

Randall gulped and cleared his throat before addressing the headstone again.

“We... we also had a daughter. But she isn't with us anymore. Like Elizabeth, it wasn't meant to be. Her name was... Sofia.”

Lix squeezed Randall's middle tight as she felt the tears filling her eyes.

“See, dad, this is who I am. I can't be anything else. I have tried. God knows, I tried. But, you loved mom and I doubt that you would have been able to marry another woman if she wouldn't have been able to have children. And just like that, life got into our way. I am a journalist and I can't do anything else. And I love Lix and I can't love anyone else. _This is who I am._ I can't be someone else you would have preferred to have as a son.”

Then, Randall fell silent. And it seemed as if the whole cemetery, the whole city of Glasgow, the whole world had fallen silent, too. Only the wind drove some fallen leaves over the ground.

It was one of those moments where you are waiting for a sign, a whisper in the breeze, a beam of sunlight coming through the clouds, a leaf falling on a shoulder as a sign that the message was received on the other side.

But nothing happened.

Just a couple standing in front of one of the most simple gravestones in the whole Southern Necropolis, nothing else.

“I just wish I would have had the courage to tell him when he was still alive.“

“I'm sure he understood it, Randall.“

She gave him a couple of minutes, so he could recover from his speech and hopefully, come to the conclusion that his father had received the message and accepted it. But finally, she couldn't tame her curiosity any longer.

“Don't you want to tell me why you think you brought dishonor to your family?“

Randall looked at her strangely. He looked to the headstone, to her, to the headstone, and back again. He sighed.

“Lix, do you want to take a walk with me? I want to show you where I came from.“

She nodded, he offered her his arm and together they strolled towards the massive gatehouse that marked the exit to the north.


	27. Glasgow, Southern Necropolis – St. Andrew's Suspension Bridge {Lix}

It was loud and dusty as they turned around the next corner, where bulldozers and excavators did their duty, tearing some tenements down.

“The slums, Lix. The slums of Glasgow. One of the poorest and most densely populated areas in the whole United Kingdom for ages. Dirty, overcrowded, full of sickness and crime. My great-grandparents came here, poor farmhands from the countryside, looking for better jobs in the factories. My grandfather grew up here, too. And there was only one hope, one creed he lived by: That his own children should have a better life than he had. So, my grandfather worked harder than anyone else. Quite the opposite of his parents and all the other men around him, he didn't drink. He was clever. He not only worked harder, he also worked smarter than the others.”

Randall suddenly stood still, staring to the front of a house that was already half torn down.

“You have no idea about the poverty, Lix. You see the room there?”

He pointed with his finger to a small room where the front and side wall was already missing. Lix nodded.

“You would put two bunk beds in it. Room for four people. If you were clever, you rented the space in the bed to two people, one working night shift, the other by day. Of course, this is something only house owners had a right to do, technically. But... hard to control, as you can imagine. If you were new in town, you didn't ask many questions if the sleeping space was affordable.”

“You mean your grandfather rented space in his flat to others who were even poorer than him?”

“One of the many sources of income, yes. Not all strictly legal... but...” Randall shrugged, “never got caught. He had one good suit and pair of good shoes, I don't really know where or who he got them from, and, as I said, he never drank. So, whenever there was something going on, police or authorities in the house, he would dress up and would pass as the only respectable man amidst of others who looked, spoke, and smelled like criminals. That he trained his speech until he could speak like someone from the upper classes helped, of course.”

They walked on and came to a gigantic building site next to the River Clyde. Randall halted his steps and studied a sign showing the high rises that would be constructed here. He smiled and gesticulated over the vast space where cranes were installed and bulldozers leveled the ground, commanded by some surveyors with their theodolites.

“That's where I grew up until I was about eight. A two room flat in a tenement, all gone now.

“My grandfather did everything to get my father a better job than he had. Invested in his education. Made contacts. Saw early that the needs of industry changed at the turning of the century. Despite his lack of formal education, my grandfather was interested in everything and read everything, especially every newspaper he could get a hold on.

“And my father inherited that urge to know more and understand more. The money my grandfather made was enough to let him go to school longer than the other boys. My father had a huge interest in nature and would have loved to become a scientist, but of course, that wasn't even in the stars.

“But my father had also a good understanding of technology, systems, and matching time frames, and so, with some twists and turns, he became responsible for organizing the logistics of a large shipping company.

“A bit loud around here, how about taking a stroll down to the river?”

The grip around Lix's hand tightened as Randall approached a small bridge over the Clyde. From it, they could still see the building site with its cranes, but it was a bit quieter. Randall seemed to get lost in his own thoughts, watching the works from this perspective.

“Are you sad, Randall? That where you grew up is gone, now?”

Randall turned to her, surprised.

“Sad? No, Lix, no. My childhood here, in the slums, it was this.”

Randall pointed towards some tenement blocks next to the large building site, where some children were playing in a scrap heap.

“It was dirty, our flat had only a window to the backyard, it was dark all day. We just had one toilet for I don't know how many families, no tap in the kitchen, and heating in winter was a mess. No, Lix, no. Have you seen the plans for the blocks they will build here?”

Randall reached around Lix's shoulder and pulled her tight with a happy smile on his lips that made him appear much younger.

“That's the future! Every family their own tap, toilet, and a balcony to get some sun and fresh air. We are witnessing something marvelous happening, Lix! We see how future is made and how many children will have a cleaner, happier childhood.”

Lix had her own thoughts on the housing projects and the architecture, but decided not to object Randall when he was, for once, happy.

“You said you still grew up here until you were eight. Didn't your father want to move into some better area once he had a better job?”

“Luxury was nothing my family believed in. For my father, it was enough that we just lived in that flat as a family and didn't need to share the space with any foreigners. He believed in saving as much money as possible to fund a better education for... _oh._ ”

Suddenly, Randall froze and looked at her as if he saw her the first time. No. He was staring at her as if it wasn't really _her_ he saw in front of him.

“What?”

“ _That's_ why we moved out, I understand it now!”

Randall had let go of her and tapped his forehead.

“What? What do you understand now, Randall?”

“Ellis! Little Ellis. I never understood that... or, I did, but never _dared_ to think about it. My sister, Lix, my little sister. Elizabeth Mary. She died when I was six. She became very sick, and died. I can't remember what it was she died from, but I _now_ remember that there was talking about how the lack of hygiene caused the sickness... or worsened it...

“That was it. _This_ is why we moved. And now I'm rather sure that it was _this_... that seeing that my father could have afforded to get us into a cleaner environment... that her death was _unnecessary_ caused my mom to become so depressed she would...”

Lix saw the flickering in Randall's eyes, stepped forward and wrapped him securely in her arms. She had no idea if he would break down upon that insight, but she was not taking any chances. She held him tight, and Randall answered by closing the hug, holding her tight.

“Ah, the lovebirds!”

Someone said behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, Randall grew up in Hutchesontown, a part of the [Grobals](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gorbals), an area in Glasgow. In an effort to tackle the problems of the slums, large parts of the original tenements were demolished replaced by modern high-rise structures. Here is an article about the building projects: <https://www.gla.ac.uk/schools/humanities/research/historyresearch/researchprojects/housingandwellbeing/hutchesontown/> and here are some breathtaking photos of the living conditions in the old tenement blocks in Glasgow even as late as 1969: <https://flashbak.com/powerful-photos-of-glasgow-slums-1969-72-54283/>.


	28. Glasgow, St. Andrew's Suspension Bridge, Aunt Kate {Randall}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we encounter one of Randall's relatives. Aunt Kate is a true Glaswegian and as such, talks like one. I love the idiom, yet, want to spare you my attempts to write it. So, please, imagine the things she said spoken in Glaswegian. Aunt Kate might have a way to word things you might deem offensive. If you tell her that, she would just raise her left eyebrow and mumble something incomprehensible, yet, not especially polite. Brace yourself for some swearing in this and the upcoming chapters.

His Lix held him. Tight. And he held her, just as tight.

“Ah, the lovebirds!”

Someone said behind them. He knew the voice. He knew the voice well. Oh, no, of all the things happening here, he had hoped he could do _this_ encounter on his own terms and after he had prepared Lix for the impact.

“I didn't believe it when Billy said he saw you at Charlie's grave, but I thought I'd better look if he's right.”

He let go of Lix and turned around to see his aunt Kate standing in front of him. Now her hair was completely white and age made her appear even smaller than she had been last time he saw her, but she was still as sturdy and still as commanding as she always had been. Her fists firmly pressed to her sides, she looked up to Randall as if she were looking down on him.

“Hello, Aunt Kate.”

It took him all his willpower to say it and offer her his hand. She didn't take it. Her fists stayed where they were. There was something glistering in her eyes...

Because she didn't say anything, just eyeing him up, he decided to just follow the usual protocol. He wrapped his arm around Lix's middle.

“Lix, this is my aunt, Kate Doughty. Aunt Kate, meet Lix Storm, my future wife.”

“Delighted to meet you, Mrs. Doughty.”

Lix's hand was not even looked at by Kate.

“Don't you 'Aunt Kate' me, Randall! The nerve you got...”

Now his aunt was eyeballing Lix, and Randall followed the urge to step a bit forward to be able to protect her if Kate would physically attack Lix for whatever reasons.

Aunt Kate slowly shook her head.

“The nerve you got, Randall Brown!”

She threw him a contemptuous look, then, to Randall's surprise, addressed Lix.

“Did he tell you about himself, Miss Storm? Did he tell you what _kind_ of a man he is before he asked you to marry him? He's not the ordinary bastard with a cock, you know? They are all bastards, the men, one more, one less. I'm allowed to say that. Married to one and raised three of them. They are just men and they are what they are. But that one,” she virtually stabbed Randall with her finger, “that one is _worse_!”

Kate now addressed Randall.

“Did you tell her? No, I'm sure you didn't! You didn't tell her that you are responsible that your mom is dead, right? You made my brother's life a misery, you nasty little prat! Look at you, with your suit, and your tie, and your posh English whore. Thinking you are something special, right? Better than us ordinary people, right? Always thought you were something better. Always too special to play with the ordinary kids. Yeah, fleeing when it got difficult. Never visiting your father when he was sick. Who was nursing him when he was so sick he couldn't leave the bed? Me, Randall, it was me! Who took care of him, who was getting him to hospital and back? Not his son. No. Not his son. _My_ sons did. Because _his_ son, _his only son,_ this _son_ was running around the world somewhere, Madrid, Paris, London, the Lord knew where, could have been behind the Moon. I know just one thing: In Glasgow, he wasn't!”

Randall wanted to say something, but Aunt Kate wasn't finished, yet. She turned to Lix again.

“That's him. That's the fine, superior Randall Brown you are about to marry. And I tell you one more thing about him: As absent as he was, as soon as there was money to get, see who remembered he was his father's son! Charlie, my Charlie always saved the money. And what for? To get his son a good education! That was all he ever wanted. His son to become something _useful_. A doctor, an engineer, a scientist, no matter what, but something _respectable!_ Something the people would look up to. To have _his_ name, the name _Brown_ , the name of the Waddel Street Browns, spoken about in respect! Something society _needed._ Not a bloody _journalist_! Not a bloody, fucking, lying _muckraker_!”

Aunt Kate needed to catch some breath now and Randall used his chance to finally get something to say.

“I know, Aunt Kate. And I'm here to apologize.”

If the revelation startled Kate, she didn't let it show. Instead she put the new information into her rant seamlessly.

“Apologize? That's good, Randall, very good!”

She took a step forward and if she had been a bit taller, she would have stood eye to eye with Randall. But because of the height difference she had to look a bit more up and he a bit more down.

“Why don't you start fucking apologizing by giving that money back? I tell you, Billy, George, and Ben can put it into far better use than you, Randall Brown! If I'm not mistaken you bought a _boat_ with it. Like a fucking fisherman. What a ridiculous bastard you are. You, Randall Brown, are a man without honor. A man who forgot that family is the most important thing in life. That it is what ties us together, and everything else isn't. Just give the money back to us and then go your bloody way, with your English whore, and your posh clothes, and your arrogant attire. We don't need you here! Never have! Never will!”


	29. Glasgow, St. Andrew's Suspension Bridge, A Showdown {Randall}

Randall opened his mouth for a reply.

But he didn't come that far because Lix had stepped forward, brought herself between him and Aunt Kate and answered before he could even say something.

“Take that back!”

Lix said in that calm, menacing way Randall knew all too well. It was the calmness before the storm. It was the calmness before Lix Storm became a _hurricane_ if whoever brought her to the edge didn't back down immediately.

“What? That Randall is a dishonorable, filthy, little sloth or that you are a goddamn, filthy, little whore?”

Aunt Kate was no less able to become a hurricane, as he very well knew. Randall was witnessing helplessly two forces of nature colliding.

“I don't care you calling me a whore because maybe I am and some whores are among the most honorable people I know. What you, however, have to take back is that Randall is a man without honor and has forgotten about what family means!”

Lix's eyes glistered with anger, and likewise Aunt Kate's.

“You think so? What do you think about a bastard who forgets that he is a _son_ to begin with? Running away like a bloody English coward from his responsibilities!”

Lix and Kate now circled each other like two boxers in the ring, both measuring each other, looking for vulnerable spots.

“I think in the first place that there was a _father_ who forgot _how to be a father_ , probably wrongly advised by his _sister_ who isn't worth much more than the nail of Randall's left middle toe!”

Randall saw that his aunt started to flex the muscles of her shoulders, making herself ready for a physical attack.

“Lix, I don't think...” Randall started, already knowing he made a mistake when both women turned their eyes on him.

“Shut up, Randall!”

His aunt advised him. Lix didn't say anything, but her eyes stabbed him like two daggers.

He took a step back, not sure who of the two he feared more. He didn't even know if his hands should go into his coat pockets, his trouser pockets, stay out of the pockets or if he, indeed, should fold his arms. He only knew he should stay out of the way of two very angry forces of nature.

“ _Wrongly advised?_ What the hell are you talking about, smarty-pants?”

“I am talking about forcing a twelve-year-old boy to guard his suicidal mother, for instance! And about leaving a ten-year-old out in the woods. And about getting in the way of and trying to hold back one of the most talented men this godforsaken city has ever seen!”

Lix was now rolling her shoulders, ready to fight back if this was getting physical. Randall had to admit that although he abhorred violence and sure didn't want to see a fight between those women, _this_ looked rather sexy.

“What are you talking about? Taking care is the goddamn duty in a family. Everybody has to do that, defend their family. Make sure nothing bad happens to them. It was the duty this goddamn bastard,” and Randall's aunt pointed at him, “never understood! Always head in the clouds, never his feet on the ground! Always forgetting about his family! Always only acting in his own, fucking, abnormal interest!”

Now Lix started cracking her knuckles. The sound made Randall sick and he just wished she wouldn't do that.

“ _Family_ , Katie? I will tell you something about fucking family, Katie!”

Randall knew how much his aunt hated being called 'Katie', marveled how Lix could have guessed that, and nearly didn't dare to look at the scene, expecting to see a fist fight pretty soon.

“ _Family_ isn't something that is just _there_. Family comes with a fucking lot of responsibility. And it comes with mutual care, but that care _always_ has to go both ways. You, Katie, and that miserable excuse of a father your brother was, they have lost their right to consider themselves Randall's family a long time ago. Instead _I_ am here. And I'm speaking on the behalf of Randall's aunt Claire, his brothers Peter and Ian, his sister Lissy, and his niece Paddy when I say that _we_ are now his family, the only family that has a _right_ and the _honor_ to consider him part of it! And we want to have nothing to do with you and your bloody lot, Katie! Crawl back under whatever dirty rock you crawled from, or I will raise hell upon you and _your_ family!”

And now, something happened Randall had never witnessed before: his aunt Kate was _speechless_. She opened her mouth but closed it again and looked at Lix as if she had just summoned a bunch of demons behind her.

“You are mad,” Kate said after a long moment. Very calm, and very, very determined.“You are really, properly mad. You are a very, very mad woman, Lix Storm. I want to have nothing to do with you and your bloody, fucking, creepy lot, whoever they are. I would prefer not seeing your or Randall's bloody arse in Glasgow ever again.”

Kate spit on the ground before Lix's feet, pointed to her own eyes, then to Lix's, then back at hers, and then, Kate Doughty, the mighty Kate Doughty, the woman who wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, the one who could scare grown men, the one who never backed down and never admitted defeat, just turned around and left the field without any further fighting.

And Lix, _his_ Lix, stood on this bridge in Glasgow, fists firmly resting at her hips, eyes glowing, a monument of strength, determination and pride, and shouted after her: “And I, for my part, would prefer not seeing you in Berriedale anytime, soon!”


	30. Glasgow, St. Andrew's Suspension Bridge, Afterglow {Lix}

The adrenaline rush was slowly wearing off as Lix stared after the woman. When Aunt Kate was out of sight, Lix turned around to see Randall standing at the railing of the bridge, looking helpless and horrified.

“Randall? Are you okay?”

“Well, yes, yes, I am, I guess.”

He didn't look okay. But then again, that was to be expected. His so-called aunt had confronted him with all the things he already felt guilty about and more or less confirmed them. For Randall, who always would listen more to a critical than to a praising voice, of course, his aunt's words had had the intended effect. She had aimed for maximum devastation, and maybe she had achieved that.

“You...”

Lix was suddenly lost for words. She knew Randall abhorred violence and she knew that she had acted anything but ladylike, but she hadn't been able to stop herself when the woman attacked Randall.

“I'm sorry, Randall. When that woman attacked you, I just had to. I can't explain, but I couldn't stay calm when she was spitting all that nonsense about you.”

“So you felt the need to defend my honor?”

There was the faintest of smiles on his lips.

“Yes... no... yes, in a way... but no...”

She noticed she had started to straighten out Randall's lapels although they didn't need to be straightened out, and that she spoke to the lapels. Did she start mimicking Randall's behaviors and quirks? She stopped immediately and saw that Randall had noticed it, too. Judging from the now very noticeable smile and twinkling in his eyes, it amused him.

“I... I think I just wanted... She was talking to you as if you were a boy, and you are not a boy anymore. She had _no right_ to talk to you like that. I was just... making sure that if you two were talking to each other, it was done from the position of two equals. Leveling the playing field, you know?”

“When did you become the Chief of the Berriedale Storms, Lix?”

The amusement was now clearly visible. Something had shifted the situation from dark and menacing to still a bit awkward, but more lighthearted.

“Well, if you talk to people it is most effectively done if you speak their language,” she shrugged, “and Katie's language seems to be 'family'. So, I felt entitled to put your _real_ family against hers, Randall.”

“You really spoke her language perfectly, it seems. Not that I had expected some of the words coming from your beautiful mouth, Lix.”

Randall let his thumb run along her lips.

“I'm probably not as well-bred as you always assumed, Randall.”

Lix sighed, not really wanting to think about how she was raised.

“I was never assuming anything. And you were obviously raised to stare down one of the most menacing monsters from my childhood.”

“You were afraid of that? Meeting your aunt, I mean?”

Randall nodded, the smile gone.

“And now you have also learned the reason. I was equally afraid of her reaction to seeing me again, after all those years, and of your reaction to what I have done.”

“What you have done Randall? About your father? And about the money? Well... I'm in no position to judge. Right?”

“Still... nothing I'm proud of.”

“Oh, if all we did in our lives would be something we can be proud of... Randall, I'm certainly not an authority for moral questions. Far from it. Even Lissy would be more entitled to having an opinion on _that_ matter. And she probably would even have a proper advice for you.”

“I'm rather sure she would have... only that your opinion matters so much more to me, Lix.”

While speaking, he had taken her left hand. Now, he placed a kiss on the ring on her finger.

“You don't have to decide now, Randall. This encounter was certainly nerve-wrecking. I think you have thought long about it. It doesn't hurt to think about it some more. And you can tell me about it, you know? For now, I only have parts of the puzzle, namely a couple of words between swear words from your aunt.”

“Right, so it shall be,” Randall sighed, looking at her left hand in his hand. “Then, I have two more requests, Lix, Lix, _my_ Lix...”

“Namely?”

She asked because he trailed off, just looking into her eyes.

“First: let's just get out of Glasgow. Aunt Kate said she doesn't want us here, and, frankly, I have no desire to stay here any longer, now that this encounter came and passed quicker than anticipated.”

“Agreed. As much as I would have liked to explore where you grew up a bit deeper, I think there is not much sense to dwell in a place that has changed so profoundly. Especially, as I don't want to see your aunt coming back with the rest of the family to help getting us out of the city. And second?”

Randall let go of her hand and instead took her chin.

“I would like to kiss the Chief who fights my monsters.”

“You know the husband of the Chief never has to ask, Randall!”

Lix replied, already impatiently waiting for his lips to tell her a few other things.


	31. Glasgow – Road to East Kilbride {Lix}

When they had left the outskirts of Glasgow behind them, Randall gave a big sigh of relief, grabbed Lix's hand and squeezed it tight.

“Don't you want to wave goodbye to your hometown and the Highlands?” Lix asked, remembering his need at Struie Hill, not wanting to run into the same sort of misunderstanding again.

“No, Lix, no. I'm just happy we escaped.”

To Lix's surprise, Randall moved the car to the side of the road anyway and got out. Sometimes it was really hard to understand what went on behind those blue-green eyes. She also got out of the car and moved to Randall's side. He had taken a cigarette and was offering her one. She took it and they leaned shoulder to shoulder with the car as support, looking out to the city of Glasgow which was covered by a dense cloak of smoke, damp, and fog.

“What a dump,” Randall remarked.

“Still, the place you were born.”

Lix side-eyed Randall. There were a lot of thoughts in his head but she couldn't tell which kind of thoughts.

“I wish I wasn't, Lix.”

“Born in Glasgow?”

“Born at all.”

It was like a punch to her stomach. It sounded so desperate and sad. Lix wanted to wrap him in her arms immediately and tell him how happy she was he was born, but decided that maybe it was wiser to give him room to elaborate.

“Why?” Was all she asked, opening up the widest possible way to answer.

“Because I'm of no use. Aunt Kate was right. I failed in fulfilling what is expected of a son. I let the family down.”

“A family which let you down in the first place, Randall.”

Randall shrugged.

“Depends on how you look at things. In comparison, my family did much more for me than other families did for their offspring. I never had to worry about anything, always had something to eat, clothes, education. They had high hopes of what would become of me, and I let them down.”

“You became the _Head of News_ of the BBC, if that's not successful, I don't know what is, Randall.”

Randall took a long drag, staring in the distance.

“It is not a _real_ job as far as my family is concerned. Every dock worker is more successful than that because he does something that is _needed_. Unloading a ship is necessary, so people get their goods and their food. Writing is unnecessary because it doesn't help anybody to sustain their family.”

“Well, somebody has to keep people informed, right? And your job sustains you, so I don't see their point.”

In fact, Lix _did_ see their point and had been through several similar discussions with random people over the years, but it never got to her the way it obviously did get to Randall. In her book, everything that earned her enough money to support herself and aligned with her skills and interests was a good job. And she was _good_ at what she did, better than most other journalists. It was the one thing she was proud of. She failed in every other account in life, but _this_ was something she was proud of. She was a good journalist. And so was Randall. Only that he refused to see it.

“And no family to sustain, that's the other point I fail in. Discontinuing the family tradition. The children should always have it better than the parents... but this requires to _have_ children in the first place...”

Lix felt the lump in her throat and how the deep, dark pit in her breast became wider and deeper. Of course. Children. The one thing he longed to have and she couldn't give him. The point that set their relationship out to be a failure in the long run.

“You still can have children, you know, Randall?”

She said, flipping the butt to the ground, stepping on it, extinguishing it perhaps a little bit more forcefully than she usually did.

Randall turned to her, suddenly even paler than usual.

“Oh... Lix, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

He looked into her eyes, then to the nearly finished cigarette in his hand, back to her, to the stub, staring intensely at it, to the ground, to her eyes again, to the remnants of her cigarette, to his hand again. Then he bowed down and extinguished the cigarette meticulously on a stone on the ground and carefully rested it on it. Now he stepped to her and grabbed her upper arms.

“Lix, I'm so sorry I said that. I didn't mean it that way. If I can't have children with you, I don't want any children. You are my future wife. More, you are _my_ Lix. My _home_. The only person that really matters to me.”

It was, of course, a lie. But a white lie. Randall just didn't want to hurt her. In a way, it was rather sweet. She put her hand on his chest, right above his kind heart and smiled at him.

“It is okay, Randall. Let's just let all those sleeping dogs lie and try to get some miles between us and this place, huh?”

Suddenly, she didn't want to see anything from Glasgow, from Scotland, anymore. She didn't want to see anything or anyone at all. She just wanted to get away from everything and everyone.

“Right you are!” Randall replied, to her surprise handing her the car keys. “Please bring me away from this terrible place of defeat, Lix Storm. Just take me with you, wherever you may go.”

He said, fetched both their cigarette butts from the ground, placed them in the car's ashtray, and nestled in the corner of the front seat.

She smiled at the sight.

Randall Brown, the mighty _Head of News_ , had become a small boy again. He trusted her to know where they needed to go, and he trusted her to take care of him.

Well, that was the other thing she was proud of: That she had earned the unconditional trust of one of the most sceptical people she knew.

She would take good care of him until Glasgow and his family lay in a safe distance.

Without any clear idea about their next stop she took to the road again.

Down South, they couldn't go wrong.


	32. East Kilbride – Scottish-English Border {Randall}

“Please bring me away from this terrible place of defeat, Lix Storm. Just take me with you, wherever you may go.”

It was exactly how he felt right now. In a way, the encounter with his aunt had cut the last ties he had had to this place. There would be a time when he had to hand her the money, but after that, he didn't want to see that place ever again. And if there was one thing he was absolutely sure of, it was that he didn't want to go anywhere, or live anywhere, where Lix wasn't with him.

He would have loved to rest his head on her shoulder to feel her strength, but feared it could distract her from driving. So, he just huddled against the door of his Austin and let Lix take him wherever she deemed right. He didn't want to go anywhere. Not to London, not to Berriedale. He wanted to stay with Lix.

And Lix? She seemed to know where they needed to go, even without him as a navigator. She steered this car calmly and securely. He didn't need to worry about anything.

But of course, he worried.

With no need to worry ahead because all he had worried about was suddenly behind him, his head was free to worry about other things.

Like this road.

It was a comparably good road. But still...

There were so many terrible things that could happen.

Another car could run into them.

A herd of sheep could cross the road after a blind bend.

And who knew if the bridges were built with good material. They could suddenly crumble beneath them and they could fall into the river, not getting out of the car, drowning.

Or the driver of the truck in front of them lost control, blocked their way and Lix would try to avoid the collision, oversteering, crashing into the stone wall. Or breaking through it?

What if Lix would get hurt?

So bad that they had to go to hospital?

What if she would get hurt really, really bad?

What if she would lapse into a coma?

Would they let him visit her?

Would they allow him to sit at her bedside and talk to her so that she knew she wasn't alone?

They weren't married!

Probably they wouldn't let him see her at all because they weren't married!

That was terrible.

They had spoken about it but never made a fixed appointment. It hadn't been important enough, somehow. They were together and they were happy, so it didn't play a role.

But it did!

There were so many occasions where it played a _major_ role.

He opened the glove compartment, took out the map and studied it.

Great.

At least his memory had served him right.

“Straight ahead lie the Debatable Lands, Lix. Exactly where we need to be right now!”

Lix just nodded mechanically and drove ahead.

Randall sighed relived.

He had a plan!

With a plan in mind, he could keep the menacing thoughts at bay.

As soon as they would arrive, everything would be alright.

They would be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Debatable Lands are a small patch at the English-Scottish border that was for about 300 years a dangerous, lawless place, too scraggy to be worth fighting for or maintaining control over it: <http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20200504-the-tiny-country-between-england-and-scotland>


	33. Gretna Green {Randall}

It seemed like forever until he saw the few houses appear, mainly the large building of a blacksmith's workshop to the right.

“Stop at that shop, Lix.”

She did as he told her. Before she could get out of the car, he had already jumped out and ran to the driver's side to open the door for her. She looked confused when he offered her his hand to help her getting out of the car.

“Gretna Green, Lix. The place where traditionally eloping couples from all over England got married because here, in Scotland, short behind the English border, they could do so even if they were under-aged and their parents didn't agree. You only need a citizen to witness the declaration, hence, the blacksmith. What do you think, Lix?”

“That's very romantic, Randall.”

“It is, so, _what do you think_?”

He had taken her hand with the ring and looked into her eyes.

Why didn't she understand what he meant?

“I think it is a very nice, romantic place... what do you... _oh_... you want to marry right here and right now, Randall?”

He breathed, relieved. She finally understood!

“Exactly! Let's look for the next blacksmith or whatever citizen we can find and get married!”

Lix stared at him for a moment with a glistering in her eyes, then, she smiled at him and shook her head.

His heart sank.

“You decided otherwise. You don't want to marry me after the things you learned about me in Glasgow.”

It was fair enough. Lix didn't owe him anything. He couldn't blame her if she decided otherwise. He was an irresponsible, weird, obsessed man. Lix had learned _just how_ irresponsible, weird, and obsessed on this trip. It was only logical that she changed her mind.

But she stepped closer to him – and kissed his hand.

“Oh, Randall, dear, you crazy, sweet, cute, lovely, unnecessarily insecure, utterly romantic lad. _Of course_ , I still want to marry you.” She let go of his hand, grabbed his lapels, and pecked a kiss on his lips. “But seriously, we don't have to flee from everyone and marry in secrecy, do we? We aren't on the run. We are not under-aged, we couldn't care less what our families think. And besides, I think informal marriage in Scotland was abandoned about twenty years ago.”

“Oh.”

Of course. He wasn't up-to-date with the regulations because he had just thought of it about an hour ago.

Lix looked at him, discerning.

“Why do you want to marry _now?_ We haven't spoken about it since London. What happened that it seems to be your top priority right now? So important you don't even want to wait until we are back in London where we could easily go to the next registrar if we were in a hurry?”

It was a good question. He couldn't very well tell her that his mind played all kinds of catastrophic scenarios in his head while she drove, could he? He tried to piece together an answer that wouldn't let him appear like a lunatic. Unfortunately, his mind wasn't very cooperative.

“You are scared, Randall. Something has scared you, I can tell it by the way you look. Like a distraught boy again. What is it? Come on, you know you can tell me.”

Lix had cupped his cheek and caressed it lightly. He gave up his resistance. Lix knew that he was weird, so he could tell her just how weird he was.

“Lix, when we have an accident and you are in a coma they won't let me be by your side if we aren't married.”

“Oh, Randall, dear...” she rested her forehead against his, “who tells you that it is me who is severely injured in an accident? Who tells you we are not both injured? Who tells you we are not both killed? 'For we all might die, tomorrow', do you remember? Terrible things happen all the time and everywhere and there is nothing we can do about it. You have lied about us being married before and I'm rather sure they won't want to see a certificate of marriage in a hospital – not that we would have any if we married by a public promise here.”

She pointed to the smithy. He had to admit she had a point. It was somehow... disappointing. He looked to his feet and suddenly felt like a stupid, clumsy teenager again who had done something that made him the laughing stock in front of the whole class and especially his heartthrob.

“Randall... this is Scottish soil, right?”

Randall looked completely confused into Lix's eyes. She was grinning broadly and he had no idea why.

“Randall, for a romantic Scotsman and a journalist your knowledge about Scottish marriage is pretty spotty and riddled by factoids! That you need a _witness_ for a marriage was something the English _thought_ they needed when they eloped to Gretna Green or any other Scottish town. For hundreds of years a Scottish marriage needed nothing else but mutual consent to be considered valid. If two people were free to marry, at an age they were allowed to marry, all it took was them declaring to be husband and wife and to be able to bring proof for their consent if necessary.”

Lix wiggled the finger with the ring on her left hand.

“As far as I am concerned, our consent was mutual a few weeks ago. And I still suggest that we have a formal marriage with some of our closest friends as soon as possible, and a proper certificate. Bel will be pretty furious if she isn't given the chance to properly cry at our wedding, for example. But right here and now, standing on Scottish soil and quite sure that what was good enough for your forefathers still works in spite of any modern law, I declare that I, Lix Storm, am willing to be your wife, if you are willing to be my husband, Randall Brown.”

Randall was taken aback by this surprise solution to his problem. It was not legally binding and it was chaotic, unorganized, and messy, so all the things he usually abhorred, but it was, at the same time, _typically Lix_. And there was, for sure, nothing more attractive than seeing the most beautiful woman on Earth asking him to be her husband.

“I...”

His mind stumbled to find the right words. But then, suddenly, his pledge of consent was as clear as anything to him.

“I have been your husband for twenty years, Lix Storm. I would feel honored if you are willing to be my wife for eternity.”

“And I am a Scottish citizen and therefore declare this marriage valid.” A voice behind them said.

They looked around to see a sturdy man with wild, bushy, ginger whiskers and a flat cap standing, arms crossed in front of their car. He looked so stereotypical Scottish it was nearly like a scene taken from the kind of cheesy romantic comedies Randall hated but endured because Lix liked them.

“And now, get a shift on, because I have coals to deliver here,” he pointed to his truck which Randall just now noticed, “and you are blocking the drive with your car.”

And just as Randall thought that the situation couldn't get any more absurd, ridiculous, and embarrassing, Lix, _his_ Lix, _his wife_ , answered:

“I sure will, but I beg you for another minute of patience, dear witness, because first, I have to kiss the groom!”

And she did, in a way that made, as far as he could tell from the corner of his eye, a fully-grown Scottish carter and coal delivery man blush. And he himself was happy to have the car as support in his back because his knees caved feeling wanted and loved like that. He just hoped his answer conveyed the same amount of desire and love.

The town of Gretna Green had been a tourist attraction for couples for quite some time now. It saw all shapes and forms of marriages, confirmed by a blacksmith banging his hammer on an anvil or a priest with his hands on a book, and all of them were very romantic. This marriage, however, stood out as unique in its long history, because it was done standing in the open door of a Austin A40, confirming what had been clear for twenty years, witnessed by a coal delivery man who wasn't even a resident and more interested in getting on with his job than anything else.

But maybe that made it the most romantic of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Informal marriage in Scotland is indeed an interesting topic, for the short version look at Wikipedia: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marriage_in_Scotland#Irregular_and_common-law_marriages>
> 
> To go into detail and some of the misconceptions around it, read
> 
> Eleanor Gordon: Irregular Marriage: Myth and Reality in: Journal of Social History, Volume 47, Issue 2, Winter 2013, Pages 507–525 <https://academic.oup.com/jsh/article/47/2/507/1325355>


	34. Gretna Green – Doncaster {Lix}

After their surprise irregular marriage they had changed seats. If driving the car himself kept Randall's intrusive thoughts at bay it was the far more reasonable approach. Looking at the map, they had decided on Doncaster being their goal for today.

It was a nice town, the trip to London the next day would just be half a day, and, perhaps most important, neither Randall nor Lix had any connections to that place so the likelihood of unpleasant memories emerging was pretty low. For once on this trip they wanted to have a relaxed evening together and an undisturbed wedding night.

They found a nice room at the Regent Hotel in the center of the town. Lix freshed up, while Randall rearranged the pillows on the bed. She had no idea what was wrong with them, but probably they were not arranged exactly symmetrical or something.

“What do you feel like doing tonight, Lix?”

Randall asked, inspecting his arrangement critically.

“Honestly, Randall, I feel like something really basic. A pub, a beer, a lukewarm stew that was on the stove for too long or a too fatty sausage, and noisy, drunken people around me.”

Randall side-eyed her with a mixture of horror and amusement.

“As you wish, my love.”

He said, stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her and placed a kiss on her neck.

It was typically for Randall that he never doubted her choices. She wondered what would have happened if she had suggested swimming naked in the Don. She giggled at the mental image of Randall standing awkwardly on the shore, insisting on keeping his underpants on while she already had jumped into the river.

“What are you giggling at?”

“Oh, nothing, Randall... It is just that you never seem to doubt my choices, no matter how much you hate them.”

“How can I do that when one of those choices was to marry me?”

“Not all my choices might be as reasonable as this one was, Randall.”

Lix turned around and kissed him.

“So... that's a tweed occasion, I think?”

Randall said when she was done with trying to tell him how much she loved him the way he always managed to do it with his lips. She grinned and nodded.

“You love seeing me in that trouser suit do you, Randall?”

“I love seeing you in everything, Lix.” He let his hand trail along her back and to her bottom. “And in nothing at all.”

Lix giggled.

“For your standards, that was nearly a naughty remark, Randall.”

“You were more or less suggesting a naughty evening at the pub. I'm just adapting to the circumstances.”

Randall shrugged, took her tweed coat to help her in and then, she heard it.

The smallest of giggles emerged from somewhere inside of Randall.

It was the specific giggle she always tried to coax out of him, the one she found utterly adorable. It awoke the urge in her to throw him onto the bed and snog him unconscious, immediately. But that would probably cancel the evening at the pub. So, she just pecked a small kiss on his lips and poked his tummy.

“Keep that thought for tonight... first we will get something inside of this.”

Randall nodded his agreement and shrugged into his own tweed coat.

“Come on Lix, let's paint the town red,” he grinned, and it sounded _so_ _wrong_ coming from Randall, yet, it also sounded utterly endearing. Somehow, since Ardlui, and especially since Gretna Green, Randall seemed much more relaxed and at ease. As if a big weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Hand in hand they strolled down the streets of Doncaster, like some newlyweds without a care in the world. They entered the first pub that promised the required amount of drunken, happy people judging from the laughter that could be heard from the street.

Pie was the dish of the day, so Lix ordered two, a pint of stout for herself, an orange juice for Randall and looked for the quietest corner to make him not too uncomfortable with her chosen location.

It was crowded, but not too crowded. The regulars seemed considerable drunk, but not too drunk. The stout was not exactly cold and a bit stale. The ingredients of the pie were not identifiable, spinach made a big part of it, and she could taste something else, but she wasn't quite sure if it was chicken, beef, or cheese. For sure something that had been left over from last night's dish of the day and needed to be hidden inside of a pie to make it look tasty.

In other words: It was _exactly_ how she had imagined the evening. She grabbed Randall's knee and squeezed it tight, beaming happily at him.

He smiled back, obviously trying everything not to let her see how uncomfortable he felt, but his expression of a condemned man on the scaffold and the amount of orange juice he used to will down the pie and keep it in his stomach told her enough.

Lix got up and bought him another glass of juice.

When she came back, she heard a laughter from the other side of the pub and froze.

_She knew that laughter._

But... that couldn't be.

Not here.

Not him.

As inconspicuous as possible she turned her head towards the laughter.

Luckily, he sat with his back turned towards her.

But she would recognize his tall, lanky figure everywhere.

And his unique dressing style.

And his _laughter_.

She took a deep breath and considered her options.

At the moment, he hadn't recognized her, as far as she could tell.

And he looked as if he was quite comfortable with the company of three other fellows, so he probably would be distracted for some time.

She looked at the glass in her hand.

Well, she would just urge Randall to get this down as quickly as possible and try to get out of this pub and back to the hotel as soon as possible.

If they didn't face each other, she could pretend that it didn't happen. She just needed to spend the night at the hotel with Randall, and get out of Doncaster first thing in the morning and everything would be alright.


	35. Doncaster, Pub {Randall}

Randall hated pubs. Well, not pubs in general, the Gunn Arms in Berriedale was okay, and so were a few others in the United Kingdom. But he hated pubs like this one. Overcrowded, loud, the air filled with smoke from too many cigarettes and cigars, the tables tacky because they hadn't been cleaned for a week, and you never knew when one of the drunkards came over, trying to provoke a brawl.

Besides, the food was _always_ disgusting. He could name exactly seven pubs in Britain which served decent food. This pub wasn't among them. Whatever had gone horribly wrong with the dishes on Sunday, the cook had tried to cover it up in too much dough and called it “pie” this Monday.

But Randall didn't want to disappoint Lix who seemed to enjoy every detail of this smoky, loud, smelly, sticky, outright terrible place. So, he decided to take it like a man. He willed down the pie, bit by bit. If he took a sip of orange juice with each mouthful, it was possible to get the dry, pasty, stringily crime against humanity into his stomach.

Unfortunately, the supply of orange juice ran out before the pie did. Lix got up to get him another one.

His Lix.

She might enjoy other things than he did, but she always tried to make it less horrible for him. He leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking about Lix, so he didn't need to face the pie and the pub.

“Hey, everything alright, Randall?”

He heard her sweet voice and saw her wonderful blue eyes when he opened his. He saw the one line on her forehead had deepened. He secretly called it the “worry line” because it always became visible when his Lix was really worried. Maybe he looked a bit strained by his surroundings. She really shouldn't worry so much about him. He was as happy as he could be.

“Yes, don't worry, Lix!” He noticed his voice sounded hoarse, probably the smoke in the air. He cleared his throat. “I'm happy to be here, with you. And thank you for the juice.”

“Only supporting your heroic fight against the pie, Randall.” Lix grinned.

“A man got to do what he got to do, as Steinbeck puts it,” he retorted with an apologetic smile, again tackling the doughy enemy on the plate in front of him.

“You don't have to eat that, you know, Randall? We can go someplace else and find a decent meal.”

He set down the fork, turned to Lix, and let his thumb run over the “worry line” on her forehead.

“It's fine, Lix. I might leave the crust. But you asked for an evening in the pub and I am well willing to fulfill all your wishes. Even if it involves the pie of evil or folk dancing.”

She beamed at him, her eyes sparkling like two stars, she put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. He quite liked that, even if he always felt a bit awkward kissing in a public place. At least it left no doubt for the other men at the bar and the tables _who_ was going home with this extraordinary, beautiful, strong woman.

“No folk dancing tonight, Randall,” Lix said, releasing him from her grip, “I think I already got enough pub atmosphere for a long while. Let's get back to our hotel, I might have a few other ideas and wishes to fulfill tonight.”

Her foot traveling up his trouser leg left no doubt what kind of ideas and wishes her beautiful head had come up with. He didn't complain. He only hoped it wouldn't end in a disaster like last night. But he found himself well willing to make amends for it.

“Stormy!”

He had seen the large man approaching before Lix did. He was tall and lanky, wore a wide-cut cloak that nearly seemed like a cape, a long, red scarf and a floppy hat. Under the hat a shock of brown curls was visible. Given the lines on the man's face and the graying goatee Randall was absolutely sure they were dyed.

Lix froze at the man's voice, became pale, and slowly turned towards him.

“You have grown quite a bit, but I immediately recognized those sassy cheekbones the moment you entered the pub.”

To Randall's horror, the man let his index finger run over _his_ Lix's left cheekbone. He braced himself for Lix standing up and punching the man right across the face.

But it didn't happen.

Instead, Lix said nothing at all.

This was so unlike Lix that it worried Randall much more than if she had gotten herself into a fist fight with this man.

“Stormy, Stormy, Stormy... how long has it been? Twenty years? I'm losing track of time. And I'm getting old, Stormy, dear.”

The man brushed over his goatee, then put his hand on Lix's neck and rubbed her jaw with his thumb.

“Longer,” Lix croaked, and it was an insecure croak. A sound Randall had never heard from her. A sound that frightened him to his bones because it sounded as if Lix was _scared._

It was what finally made Randall wanting to act. He was not going to let any man touch _his_ Lix. He jumped up and realized he had no idea what to do next. All his life, he never had to defend a woman. Especially not Lix, usually it went the other way round. He was missing a script for how to go about such situations. He figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to clench his fists. He hoped this would make his intentions sufficiently clear.

The man's eyes now rested upon him. An amused smile crinkled his lips.

“Awww, how cute, is this your _boyfriend_ , Stormy?”

The man offered him his hand and Randall took it automatically. He couldn't help noticing that the man's hands were very soft and meticulously manicured. The handshake was very weak and felt awkward. Randall decided to squeeze this hand as tight as possible in return, radiating his will to rip every bone out of this man's body if he dared to touch Lix one more time. Given the surprised and slightly amused expression in the man's eyes, he had received the message, but didn't take it serious.

“Randall Brown, Head of News at the British Broadcasting Corporation, Lix's _husband_ ,” Randall said, quite satisfied with the menacing holler he had managed to accompany his introduction with, “may I ask who _you_ are?”

“Ernest Haddaway, an old friend of Stormy's family,” the man said, with a mock bow, “you may say I'm the Head of Old News and Master of all Arts and Trades.”

Then, Ernest Haddaway turned his attention again to Lix, ignoring Randall's existence.

“Stormy, my dear, how about a drink to celebrate old times and catch up with what happened in the meantime?”

The man took Lix's hand, and, making Randall's blood boil, kissed it.

Randall wanted to take a step forward, realized that he couldn't step between Haddaway and Lix because the table was in his way and his brain stuck at trying to figure out how to get around the table and between Lix and the man without making a complete idiot of himself.

Lix shook her head, but said nothing. Seeing Lix acting so totally out of character frightened him. Was the man an old lover? It sounded like it. Why didn't she just tell him to get lost? He had made it clear they were married and so, it would be a decent thing for Haddaway to retreat and easy enough to say something along these lines for Lix.

“Ah, well, I understand, you probably don't want to offend your...” Haddaway let his green eyes run from Randall's head to his toes and it felt like he was judged and deemed not worthy, “ _husband..._ in public. Fair enough. Here...” The man took a card and a pen out of his pocket and scribbled something on the back. “That's the tearoom I take my breakfast every morning. Drop by. I think we have a lot to catch up with, little cutie.”

Haddaway gave Lix the card, bumped her chin with his fist, grinned broadly, first at her, then at Randall, turned around, which sent his coat flying like the cape of some mysterious wizard, and paced out of the pub.

Both Randall and Lix stared behind him. Randall was the first to regain his ability to speak.

“Who _was_ that man, Lix?”

He demanded to know.

Lix was white as a sheet, at least as far he could tell in the dim light.

“A ghost, Randall. A ghost from my past.”

She stammered, and her voice sounded ghost-like, too.

“He _touched_ you, Lix!”

It was all: a stating of the fact, an observation of the impact this action had had on Lix, and an accusation that she had let him do it.

“Yes. Sorry, Randall, I was... not able to do anything.”

It came back, her voice so terribly insecure it broke his heart. Well, if he understood _one_ thing perfectly, it was not being able to do something he wanted to do, being paralyzed by his own brain. If there had been the faintest anger geared towards her for not fending the stranger off, it was gone instantly.

“I'm sorry, Lix. I should have protected you from him.”

Obviously, that sentence changed something in Lix. Suddenly the warmest glow emerged from her eyes. She smiled and gently cupped his cheek.

“You did perfectly, dear. You played the jealous husband very convincingly.”

He didn't know how to respond, but was relieved to see some color crawling back into her cheeks.

“I didn't need to _play_ the jealous husband, Lix, Lix, _my_ Lix,” he finally said and kissed her, because he simply couldn't put into words what he felt. He couldn't care less who was offended by him kissing his wife.

Judging by some whistling, laughing and applause from the tables around them, the kiss was noticed by more people than he thought, although _offended_ was not strictly the right term for their reaction.

“Eow, get yourselves a room, the two of you!”

Some drunkard shouted from the next table, accompanied by even more whistling, shouting and howling.

Lix broke the kiss and brought her mouth next to his ear.

“I think they have a point, Randall. Let's get out of this place before they call the police on us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote "A man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do” is widely associated with John Wayne. The original, however, can be found in John Steinbeck's _The Grapes of Wrath_ from 1939. Randall obvioulsy reads a lot.


	36. Doncaster, Hotel Room {Randall}

As soon as Randall closed the door of their hotel room behind them, he found himself pinned against it, and kissed in a way that left nothing to guess about who was in control of what was happening tonight.

He didn't mind.

He never minded when Lix took control, but tonight was technically their wedding night and he was willing to fulfill whatever wishes she had.

That, and it drove away all the dark thoughts and doubts he had had about who the man with the hat and the scarf was and what he had been to her.

If it had been a former lover, he was _now_ absolutely sure it wasn't someone who could come between him and Lix.

 _Nothing_ could come between him and Lix.

They were made for each other, each fingertip knowing where to wander, their tongues knowing the best way to play with the other, both being perfectly in sync, a union that was meant to be.

His brain seldom let him rest from worries, obsessions, and nightmare scenarios. Sometimes drawing gave him a break, sometimes listening to music, sometimes immersing himself in a really good book or an intensive research. Sometimes sex worked as a relief, too.

But what always worked was having sex with Lix. No, not _having sex_ with Lix. It was different than ordinary sex with someone else. Lix was extraordinary. You didn't have _just_ _sex_ with Lix. What they did was _making love_. He had always felt that this was the major difference which distinguished it from everything else and which always, _always,_ let his cruel brain shut up.

_It was making love to the woman he loved._

Channeling all his energy and thoughts on pleasuring Lix and giving up every control to her and what she wanted to do to him. It relaxed his mind. Here, in bed with Lix, he could simply _be._

And tonight, she made love to him as if it was the first time and the last time. She showed him how much she loved him and didn't for one single moment allow him to really _think_ about what happened. And his brain, for once, allowed him to just enjoy it. To simply let go of all his worries, fears, doubts, insecurities, and plans.

Just for tonight, he could relax.

And he did.

The past few days and especially the last night at Ardlui had exhausted him.

All he could manage when he lay beside Lix was an outspent and tired mumble:

“Lix, my gorgeous wife, my home, _my_ Lix, I love you.”

Then, he drifted off to sleep.

Only vaguely he felt her spooning him, kissing his temple, and murmuring:

“I love you, too, Randall Brown. More than you can imagine. Sleep tight, and never forget what a brilliant, capable, lovable man you are.”

The “Goodnight” was already swallowed by the sweet nothingness of a deep, peaceful sleep.


	37. Doncaster, Hotel Room, 3:05 {Randall}

He woke up well rested and glanced at the clock.

Three.

He couldn't believe he did it. He managed to sleep past that dreaded Two-o-clock-nightmare that usually let him wake up, soaked with sweat and distraught somewhere between 1:30 and 2:25. He had noted the dates, it was seldom before and never after that.

Lix did it!

Lix had managed to get him over that routine he dreaded. He hadn't been able to do anything to exhaust him so much that this nightmare didn't come. But Lix, _his_ Lix had gotten him past that point.

He was a very lucky man, indeed.

He looked over to her side of the bed and frowned. Lix wasn't there. Perhaps gone to the bathroom?

He waited.

She didn't come back. And there were no sounds anywhere. Neither in this room, nor somewhere in the hotel, as far as he could tell. Probably every living soul was asleep.

He got up and found a letter on the small table next to the window.

He frowned and sat down to read it.

_Dear Randall,_

_when you read this letter, I will be gone. Don't search for me. Go on your way, go back to London, and search a new Head of Foreign Desk, you and Bel._

_I'm leaving you this way because I would never have found the courage to tell it straight to your face. I know that I would falter and stay, although I know it only means that I will make you unhappy in the long run. Randall, all your plans for the future, all your hopes for our future together, they are based on a wrong assumption. On the assumption that I am normal._

_But I'm not. It's all a lie. I have managed for years to hide it, but today I saw someone from my past and he reminded me. He reminded me of what I really am._

_Randall, you assume that I would be a good wife and you assume that I would have been a good mother. But it isn't true. Even if it had been peace Sofia was born in, I would have had to give her away. And I will never be the wife you deserve._

_Go on your way, go back to London, even better, go back to Paris, and forget about me. You have clung to an illusion for twenty years. But I'm just a ghost, Randall. When you look at me, you don't see_ ME _, you see the picture of a woman you love. But you don't see who I really am._

_Those past few weeks have been the happiest of my life. The way you cared for me, the things we shared, the moments we had together, it was amazing. I felt loved, and it was a wonderful feeling. And I love you, I really do. But it would not be fair to you to go on like this._

_Randall, you are a good man. And you are still an attractive man. You have so much love, support, and care to give, and you would make such a wonderful father. Randall, there are still a lot of women out there who want to have children, who would be glad to start a family with you. You are not too old for that, don't tell yourself that. And I know that this would make you happy. I see it whenever I see you talking to a child. I see it in the way you are encouraging and supporting Paddy. I see that there is always a hint of grief in your eyes. You want to have a family, and I know that you would provide them with the best, loving, caring home so they would have a wonderful future._

_Go on your way into that bright future, Randall. Don't search for me. It would lead to nothing but more pain. Go, just go._

_I love you, always._

_Lix_


End file.
